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THE

FOOL AJ\I) THE PHILOSOPHER.

A VISION.

It was a delightful evening in the middle ofAugust: the sun, shorn of his beams and like avast globe of fire, majestically descending, spreada warm and mellow lustre over the western sky;and, fringing with gold the edges of the wavy linesof purple clouds, which stretched athwart theazure concave, produced one of those rich effects,which defies the pencil of the artist, and captivatesthe mind with pleasing wonderment. All wascalmness around; even the pendent birches onthe craggy face of Ben Ain were moveless; not abreath of air stirred; and but for the gurgle of themountain streams and the rush of a large cascade,close to the little inn of the Trosacks, at the windowof which I was seated, the stillness would havebeen profound and most impressive. I had beenperusing a few pages of Pierce Plowman; and had