CHAPTER XXIX.
LADY MARCHMONT TO SIR JASPER MEREDITH.
COURTIERS.
Not in a close and bounded atmosphere
Does life put forth its noblest and its best;
'Tis from the mountain's top that we look forth,
And see how small the world is at our feet.
There the free winds sweep with unfettered wing;
There the sun rises first, and flings the last,
The purple glories of the summer eve;
There does the eagle build his mighty nest;
And there the snow stains not its purity.
When we descend the vapour gathers round,
And the path narrows: small and worthless things
Obstruct our way; and, in ourselves, we feel
The strong compulsion of their influence.
We grow like those with whom we daily blend:
To yield is to resemble.
Ah, my dearest uncle! now I find the truth of what you used to tell me. I once thought
