There are some sorts of beauty which defy description, and almost scrutiny.  Some faces rise upon us in the tumult of life, like stars from out the sea, or as if they had moved out of a picture.  Our first impression is anything but fleshly.  We are struck dumb—­we gasp for breath—­our limbs quiver—­a faintness glides over our frame—­we are awed; instead of gazing upon the apparition, we avert the eyes, which yet will feed upon its beauty.  A strange sort of unearthly pain mixes with the intense pleasure.  And not till, with a struggle, we call back to our memory the commonplaces of existence, can we recover our commonplace demeanor.  These, indeed, are rare visions—­these, indeed, are early feelings, when our young existence leaps with its mountain torrents; but as the river of our life rolls on, our eyes grow dimmer, or our blood more cold.

LOTHAIR IN PALESTINE

From ‘Lothair’

A person approached Lothair by the pathway from Bethany.  It was the Syrian gentleman whom he had met at the consulate.  As he was passing Lothair, he saluted him with the grace which had been before remarked; and Lothair, who was by nature courteous, and even inclined a little to ceremony in his manners, especially with those with whom he was not intimate, immediately rose, as he would not receive such a salutation in a reclining posture.

“Let me not disturb you,” said the stranger; “or, if we must be on equal terms, let me also be seated, for this is a view that never palls.”

“It is perhaps familiar to you,” said Lothair; “but with me, only a pilgrim, its effect is fascinating, almost overwhelming.”

“The view of Jerusalem never becomes familiar,” said the Syrian; “for its associations are so transcendent, so various, so inexhaustible, that the mind can never anticipate its course of thought and feeling, when one sits, as we do now, on this immortal mount.” ...

“I have often wished to visit the Sea of Galilee,” said Lothair.

“Well, you have now an opportunity,” said the Syrian:  “the north of Palestine, though it has no tropical splendor, has much variety and a peculiar natural charm.  The burst and brightness of spring have not yet quite vanished; you would find our plains radiant with wild-flowers, and our hills green with young crops, and though we cannot rival Lebanon, we have forest glades among our famous hills that when once seen are remembered.”

“But there is something to me more interesting than the splendor of tropical scenery,” said Lothair, “even if Galilee could offer it.  I wish to visit the cradle of my faith.”

“And you would do wisely,” said the Syrian, “for there is no doubt the spiritual nature of man is developed in this land.”

“And yet there are persons at the present day who doubt—­even deny—­the spiritual nature of man,” said Lothair.  “I do not, I could not—­there are reasons why I could not.”