under the thraldom of a dominant and all-
pervading impression. I saw this more palpably,
when, having declined to accept more than his
original offer of fifty pounds, I replaced the
remainder in his hand, he evinced scarcely any
gratitude for my liberality, so totally was he
engrossed by the idea that the horse was now
his own, and that Fortune would no longer have
any pretext for using him so severely as before.

"'I don't know—I cannot know,' said he, 'if
fortune means to deal more kindly by me than
heretofore, but I feel a sort of confidence in the
future now; I have a kind of trustful courage as
to what may come, that tells me no disaster will
deter me, no mishap cast me down.'

"These were his words as he arose to take his
leave. Of his meeting with the pony I am
afraid to trust myself to speak. It was such an
overflow of affection as one might witness from
a long absent brother on being once again
restored to his own. I cannot say that the beast
knew him, nor would I go so far as to assert
that he did not, for certainly some of his old
instincts seemed gradually to revive within him on
hearing certain words; and when ordered to
take a respectful farewell of me, the pony
planted a foreleg on each of his master's shoulders,
and, taking off his hat with his teeth,
bowed twice or thrice in the most deferential
fashion. I wished them both every success
in life, and we parted. As I took my evening's
stroll on the pier I saw them embark for Ostend,
the pony sheeted most carefully, and every
imaginable precaution taken to ensure him against
cold. The man himself was poorly clad and
indifferently provided against the accidents of the
voyage. He appeared to feel that the disparity
required a word of apology, for he said, in a
whisper: 'It'll soon furnish me with a warm
cloak; it'll not leave me long in difficulties!'
I assure you, my dear Crofton, there was
something contagious in the poor fellow's superstition,
for, as he sailed away, the thought lay
heavily on my heart, 'What if I, too, should
have parted with my good luck in life? How
if I have bartered my fortune for a few pieces
of money?' The longer I dwelt on this
theme the more forcibly did it strike me. My
original possession of the animal was
accomplished in a way that aided the illusion. It was
thus I won him on a hit of backgammon!"

As I read thus far, the paper dropped from my
hands, my head reeled, and in a faint dreamy state,
as if drugged by some strong narcotic, I sank, I
know not how long, unconscious. The first
thing which met my eyes on awakening, was the
line, "I won him on a hit of backgammon!"
The whole story was at once before me. It was
of Blondel I was reading! Blondel was the beast
whose influence had swayed one man's destiny.
So long as he owned him, the world went well
and happily with him; all prospered and
succeeded. It was a charm like the old lamp of
Aladdin. And this was the treasure I had lost.
So far from imputing an ignorant superstition to
the German, I concurred in every speculation,
every theory of his invention. The man had
evidently discovered one of those curious
problems in what we rashly call the doctrine of
chances. It was not the animal himself that
secured good fortune, it was that, in his
"circumstances," what Strauff calls "die umringende
Begebenheiten" of his lot, this creature was
sure to call forth efforts and develop resources
in his possessor, of which, without his aid, he
would have gone all through life unconscious.

The vulgar notion that our lives are the sport
of accident—the minute too early or too late—
the calm that detained us—the snow-storm that
blocked the road—the chance meeting with this
or that man, which we lay such stress on—what
are they in reality but trivial incidents without
force or effect, save as they impel to action?
They call out certain qualities in our nature by
which our whole characters become modified.
Your horse balks at a fence and throws you
over his head; the fall is not a very grave one,
and you are scarcely hurt; you have fallen into
a turnip-field, and the honest fellow who is
hoeing away near comes kindly to your aid, and,
in good Samaritan fashion, bathes your temples
and restores you. When you leave him at last,
you go forth with a kindlier notion of human
nature; you recognise that tie "that makes the
whole world kin," and you seem to think that
hard toil hardens not the heart, nor a life of
labour shuts out generous sympathies—the lesson
is a life one. But suppose that in your fall you
alight on a bed of choice tulips, you descend in
midst of a rich parterre of starry anemonies, and
that your first conscious struggles are met with
words of anger and reproach, instead of sorrow
for your suffering you hear sarcasms on your
horsemanship, and insults on your riding—no
sympathy, no kindness, no generous anxiety for
your safety, but all that can irritate and offend—
more thought, in fact, for the petals of a flower
than for the ligaments of your knee,—then, too,
is the lesson a life one, and its fruits will be
bitter memories for many a year. The events
of our existence are in reality nothing, save in
our treatment of them. By Blondel I recognised
one of those suggestive influences which
mould fate by moulding temperament. The
deep-reflecting German saw this: it was clear
he knew that in that animal was typified all that
his life might become. Why should not I contest
the prize with him? Blondel was charged with
another destiny as well as his.

I turned once more to the letter, but I could
not bear to read it; so many were the impertinent
allusions to myself, my manner, my appearance,
and my conversation. Still more insulting
were the speculations as to what class or condition
I belonged to. "He puzzled us completely,"
wrote the priest, "for while unmistakably vulgar
in many things, there were certain indications of
reading and education about him that refuted
the notion of his being what Keldrum thought—
an escaped counter-jumper! The Guardsman
insisted he was a valet; my own impression was,
the fellow had kept a small circulating library,
and gone mad with the three-volume novels.