CHAPTER II.
THE VAST CITY OF ETERNITY.
While at Lake Sorell it was my custom to retire to rest at nine o'clock, because I knew that my sitting up later would inconvenience my host and hostess; the former being anxious to get up early to attend to his daily duties, and the latter being accustomed to study for an hour after all the household had retired. Before wishing them goodnight, however, I made it a rule to take a few turns outside the house, in order to see what kind of weather we were likely to have during the night and on the following day, and also to meditate awhile on the philosophy of nature, and on the strange vicissitudes of human experience. It was the second evening after my visit to the Giant's Castle that I became as weary of the protracted drought as Mr. Pepper was, who had told me that if it continued much longer it would blight everything green and fresh, and transform the very air into a seething furnace of suffocating smoke. I looked out upon the surrounding belt of tall forest trees, and up at the cloudless sky, with strong feelings of disappointment and fear, for I deeply sympathised with the anxieties which belong to the poor farmer's lot whether he be a keeper of sheep or a tiller of the soil.
Just before entering the house again that evening, I saw
