He had heard of a Scotch mist, but could never have conceived of anything so murky, so dense, and yet behind it all was the bright and cheering sun. So is the experience of human life, often enveloped in heavy clouds, shrouded in darkness; yet beyond, God our Father sits guiding the changes of our destiny. Evening approached--no human beings could be seen; and nothing disturbed the solitude, save the muffled lowing of the cattle through the heavy atmosphere, the bleating of sheep, and the faint tinkling of the bells which they wear to direct their guides. No signs betokened their approach to human habitations; as yet no beacon pointed to his native village, and there may be no voice of kindred to welcome him to his mother's home. So impenetrable was the darkness, that the stage stopped for the night. It was a gloomy period in Roland's young life--but never did the brave spirit forget his motto; "Looking aloft!" through mist, through clouds and darkness, he slept the blessed rest of perfect trust. He woke in the morning to see the first bright rays of the rising sun beaming through his shutters; opening them, Roland looked out upon a scene of surpassing grandeur; lofty mountains in the distance, range after range, over which the sun was rising in all his majesty, thick heavy woodland wearing the dusky hues of autumn, flocks of sheep under the care of their guides, here and there the shepherds' huts, and over all, the bright sunlight flooding the landscape with his glory, and tinging the clouds of mist with prismatic hues, as they rolled away, and mingled with the higher atmosphere, leaving the landscape all revealed. Roland was cheered by the sight. "So may it be at last with my destiny," thought the youth; "if I seek God's glory in all, he will fulfil his promises." After a hearty breakfast of hot bannocks and milk, Roland resumed his journey, and referred to the driver for information concerning the rest of his journey. "How far are we from Glendale, driver?" "Aboot tharty mile or mair, I ken." "Do you know the family of the Gordons?" "Do ye mean the family o' the auld minister, David Gordon?" "The same," was Roland's reply. "The auld minister bae gane to his rest these mony years; I dinna ken how lang syne." "His son and daughter?" continued Roland. "Baith gane hame." Roland bowed his head, for now he felt his desolation. "Is there no one there, driver, who can give me any information concerning them?" "Yes, there is the auld servant, Jennie Scott; she lives near by the auld manse." In a few hours, Roland found himself approaching his native village; he had some remembrance of these familiar scenes; the lake where he had rowed in his childhood with Uncle Alick, the manse with its grove of old trees, and the kirk not far off, he found were realities that had their picture hung up in the halls of memory.