The sun had sunk down behind the tall pines, the giant sentries guarding the little cottage that so snugly nestled on the bosom of the Himalaya; but the evening glow, the farewell blessing of the departing luminary, still lingered on the tree-tops. The little shepherd boy, who so faithfully preserves the secrecy of the lonely habitation from the cruel ears of the hunters whose midnight halloos frighten the yearling fawns and whose murderous weapons ever and again render them motherless, had just brought in tidings that a company of English officials were encamped at no great distance and might be expected next morning, to outrage once more the peaceful hillside with their unhallowed sport. As the slight figure of the adventurous youth, descending the perilous crag with the sure step of the Himalayan goat, the companion of his infancy, was hidden from view by the deepening shadows of night, and the last note of his rude pipe died away in the stillness of the scene, a weariness came over the meditative mystic student, the solitary dweller of that lonely cottage. He was not born to mysticism, but was drawn into it. His eyes first beheld the light among.