m blue hills in the west, the Hills of Dream, as we called them; but, rather, idly troubled by the very uncertainties which beset our goi

we passed the fuchsia bushes, where the wild bees hummed, and round by the sea pastures, where white goats nibbled among the yellow flags, and shaggy kine with their wild hill-eyes browsed the thyme-sweet salted grass. A fisherman met us. It was old Ian Macrae, whom I had known for many years. Somehow, till then, the thought h

had not thought of that." I watched them slowly advance, for they had not halted when I did. I saw them incline

ieted, I moved

spered rathe

, looking at me with his

u seen my fri

never seen t

en here for-f

not se

o you recog

t seen the

u see any likeness in

ee no li

re sur

" The old fisherman looked

o you see any di

or sur

stery. Were we really three person

heard his voice fall clearly alo

ildered by this m

now the Soul turned also; and I heard his sunwarm

ldered by this m

wonderingly at us; "Ian tell me this: what lik

d, then rubbed his eyes as though

ou asking

keness in them to myself. I had thou

kled hand to his withered mou

. It is a joke you ar

but I do want to know how they

e I am myself, and so like me, now that I look at him, that he might be my wraith. And the other, he is a fine l

en suddenly

the blessing of Himself be upon you and

journeyed outside our common home, had to take upon themselves bodily presences likewise. But these wavering images were to others only the reflection of whoso looked upon t