It was in the early part of June that, in a diligence, for
he had laid aside the expensive luxury of a travelling carriage,
he reached the superb broad road which leads down
the steep mountain, at whose base, hidden in one of the
loveliest valleys of Bohemia, lies the town of Carlsbad.
The striking scenery of the spot would alone render it
remarkable, but it is known to invalids as the monarch of
German watering-places, to which, in the fine season, resort
pilgrims from distant parts of the globe.

The scene which presents itself to the eye of the stranger
as, with locked wheel, he winds slowly and carefully
down, is exquisite beyond description. The peculiar character
of the chaussée reveals the various features of the picture
with a pomp of display resembling the studied artifice of a
theatric exhibition, if, indeed, a theatric exhibition could be
so bright and imposing. At first, from the high mountain
brow, the stranger beholds nothing but a sea of solitary verdure,
waving upon the sides and tops of apparently inaccessible
eminences; but, as he descends towards the valley,
by short and acute angles, turning suddenly along a
series of platforms, each one immediately beneath the
other, at every abrupt bend some new portion of the enchanting
panorama bursts upon him, till he who has, perhaps,
come thousands of miles, in hopes of leaving here
some distressing or dangerous malady, feasts his eyes at
last on the welcome scene, the green, tender lawns, the
pretty river, the broad, leaning hill-sides, the winding
walks, the various bridges, the long avenues of trees, and
the ancient town, with its crowded, irregularly built, antique-looking
houses and picturesque old cathedral—a sort
of Jerusalem in the visions of the invalid.

As Harry followed the course of this zigzag road, he
looked from the window upon the ever fresh and beautiful
face of nature, and hailed the resplendent scene with an
emotion as new as it was delicious and indescribable. He
felt as if he were just born. He began, at least, to have an
idea what it was to be born again. For years he had

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ceased to admire nature, or to regard it as other than a false and
lying cheat, a sweet accident, a fair and cruel illusion. But
now it raised far other thoughts and feelings. It was a
portion of the works of an Almighty God, and a benevolent,
superintending, affectionate father, given to man for his
benefit and his delight. It was spread thus splendidly before
his eyes as an emblem of virtue and of truth. It was
the magnificent path over which he was to travel in his pilgrimage
of immortal life. He was not an insect, by chance
crawling on its surface, and destined to pass away, unmourned
and forgotten, from its bright fields and solemn rocks.
He was its lord, its master, treading with celestial feet its
beauteous fields, and destined to quit it only for scenes
more bright and eternal.

It is not our intention to follow the mind of our young
hero through its various changes during the six weeks spent
at this delightful spot. The subject may be considered by
some too serious for this species of history, though we can
see nothing more interesting or more worthy to be described,
in a proper spirit, on all occasions, than the swaying
round of an intelligent young mind from youthful skepticism
to religious faith.

He had, however, already become a Christian. He had
not by any means examined the whole subject; there were
often in his mind doubts which he could not explain, and
which appeared totally inconsistent with belief. But he
had caught a ray of that celestial faith which the sublime
Being who appeared on earth to enlighten, purify, and console
poor, guilty, weary, and struggling man, demanded of
his followers as a sign of sincerity. For the first time in
his life, our doubting skeptic saw and felt what it was to
have faith. He believed he should become a Christian, and
therefore he was one. He could not always disperse every
dark cloud of doubt, but he believed they would one day be
dispersed. He felt he had been for years plunged into an
agony of gloom and ignorance, which, by a single idea, once
fairly admitted, was ended forever. The Essay of Butler
had clearly convinced him that Christianity was not only
not impossible, according to the dictates of the coldest reason,
but was as clearly and unanswerably proved as any
fact in science, history, or nature. This was an astounding
discovery—the most tremendous and sublime event of his
life; it thrilled him with unutterable emotion—unutterable

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hope—unutterable love; it gave new action, new vitality to
every faculty and attribute of his being that was noble and
high, while it checked at once and forever all the puny fears,
all the dark doubts, all the grovelling desires and trembling
misgivings which had, till now, counteracted the best purposes
and chilled the holiest impulses of life. Yes, he was
a Christian. The moment he was persuaded Christianity
was not impossible, he believed it to be true. It was convincing
like the solution of an enigma, which, once spoken,
is self-evident. Regarded from this point of view,
the world assumed a different—a more important—a more
real—a brighter—warmer—nobler appearance. He looked
abroad upon the infinite universe, and far down into his own
deep heart, and all that was dark grew bright, and all that
was confused and mysterious became intelligible. A flood
of rapture rolled in upon him. Immortality! It was a thought
too dazzling, too stupendous. It rescued not only himself
from insignificance, destruction, and despair, but it restored
to him all those he loved. So long had he been accustomed
to regard himself as a worm, to contemplate the grave
as his last, only resting-place, to look upon all things around
as matters in which he could have no concern, and the
skies above him, and the immeasurable future, as secrets
locked forever from him as one too contemptible and fleeting
ever to know, or have part in them, that this new change
in his destiny had in it something overwhelming, and he
saw it would require his whole life to rearrange his thoughts
and plans on this mighty scale.

These were the emotions with which, just released from
a death-bed and a long confinement to a sick-room, our
young traveller saw burst upon him the broad, distant champaign,
and the deep, rich valley which greet the stranger
on arriving at Carlsbad.