“No,” said Sylvanus, “there, friend Henry, thou hast indeed found my limit. My faith is not a foolish faith. I would not tempt Providence.” “Well, dear friends,” said Mrs. Heritage, as if afraid that the conversation might take a rather caustic turn, “I think the evening warns us to remove. Dear Millicent, draw thy shawl round thee, and our other dear young women friends I would caution to do the same. You have been warm with your little excursion. And here I would remark that it is the custom of our Society on social occasions, sometimes to drop into a little solemn silence, in which something beneficial may arise in our minds. I would kindly invite you to such an exercise.” When all had fallen into a silence, which to some of them was a rather curious thing amid the pleasures of a festive day, Mrs. Heritage, at first in a soft and musical voice, which by degrees acquired depth and earnestness, said—“Dear friends, this has been a beautiful, and to all of us, I think, a very happy day. Let us not forget to be grateful to the Giver of it, and of all good gifts. Days come and go, and, however stationary we may seem, we are going with them. The bloom and gaiety of youth, beautiful as it is, is evanescent as the glories of yon western sky.” At these words all involuntarily turned, and saw one of the most glorious and gorgeous spectacles imaginable. All the western sky was flooded with waves of gold and purple, burning in and through clouds of richest magnificence. An opening in them gave passage to the blaze of the departing sun, and resembled the gates of heaven thrown wide, and, within them, far receding regions of celestial splendour. All below, under the effect of this intense radiance, looked dark and mysterious, like a weird land of cimmerian shadow that might hide some mystery.