broadly over the surface of the pond, as if to lure my foot to the experiment.  However, after having stimulated myself by a fresh pater and ave, I advanced, my eyes turned up enthusiastically to heaven—­my hands resolutely clenched—­my teeth locked together—­my nerves set—­and my whole soul strong in confidence—­I advanced, I say, and lest I might give myself time to cool from this divine glow, I made a tremendous stride, planting my right foot exactly in the middle of the treacherous water-lily leaf, and the next moment was up to the neck in water.  Here was devotion cooled.  Happily I was able to bottom the pool, or could swim very well, if necessary; so I had not much difficulty in getting out.  As soon as I found myself on the bank, I waited not to make reflections, but with a rueful face set off at full speed for my father’s house, which was not far distant; the water all the while whizzing out of nay clothes, by the rapidity of the motion, as it does from a water-spaniel after having been in that element.  It is singular to think what a strong authority vanity has over the principles and passions in the weakest and strongest moments of both; I never was remarkable, at that open, ingenuous period of my life, for secrecy; yet did I now take especial care not to invest either this attempt at the miraculous, or its concomitant failure, with anything like narration.  It was, however, an act of devotion that had a vile effect on my lungs, for it gave me a cough that was intolerable; and I never felt the infirmities of humanity more than in this ludicrous attempt to get beyond them; in which, by the way, I was nearer being successful than I had intended, though in a different sense.  This happened a month before I started for Lough Derg.

It was about six o’clock of a delightful morning in the pleasant month of July, when I set out upon my pilgrimage, with a single change of linen in my pocket, and a pair of discarded shoes upon my bare feet; for, in compliance with the general rule, I wore no stockings.  The sun looked down upon all nature with great good humor; everything smiled around me; and as I passed for a few miles across an upland country which stretched down from a chain of dark rugged mountains that lay westward, I could not help feeling, although the feeling was indeed checked—­that the scene was exhilarating.  The rough upland was in several places diversified with green spots of cultivated land, with some wood, consisting of an old venerable plantation of mountain pine, that hung on the convex sweep of a large knoll away to my right,—­with a broad sheet of lake that curled to the fresh arrowy breeze of morning, on which a variety of water-fowl were flapping their wings or skimming along, leaving a troubled track on the peaceful waters behind them; there were also deep intersections of precipitous or sloping glens, graced with hazel, holly, and every description of copse-wood.  On other occasions I have drunk deeply of pleasure, when in the midst of this scenery, bearing about me the young, free, and bounding spirit, its first edge of enjoyment unblunted by the collision of base minds and stony hearts, against which experience jostles us in maturer life.