paused in amazement. Well enough he knew the
firm, upright, characterful hand which addressed this missive to him:

TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS.--ON THE TRAIL IN THE WEST.

A feeling somewhat akin to awe fell upon Meriwether Lewis. He felt a
cold prickling along his spine. It was for him, yes--but whence had it
come? There had been no messenger from outside the camp. For one brief
instant it seemed, indeed, as if this bit of paper--which of all
possible gifts of the gods he would most have coveted--had dropped
from the heavens themselves at his feet here in the savage wilderness.
His heart had been on the point of breaking, it seemed to him--and it
had come to comfort him! It was from her. It ran thus:

DEAR SIR AND FRIEND:

Greetings to you, wherever you may be when this shall find
you. Are you among the Gauls, the Goths, the Visigoths, the
Huns, the Vandals, or the Cimbri? Wherever you be, our
hopes and faith go with you. You are, as I fancy, in a
desert, a wilderness, worth no man's owning. Life passes
meantime. To what end, my friend?

I fancy you in the deluge, in the hurricane, in the blaze of
the sun, or in the bleak winds, alone, cheerless, perhaps
athirst, perhaps knowing hunger. I know that you will meet
these things like a man. But to what end--what is the
purpose of all this? You have left behind you all that makes
life worth while--fortune, fame, life, ambition, honor--to
go away into the desert. At what time are you going to turn
back and come to us once more?

Oh, if only I had the right--if only I dared--if only I were
in a position to lay some command on you to bring you back!
Methinks then I would. You could do so much for us all--so
much for me. It would mean so much to my own happiness if
you were here.

Meriwether Lewis, come back! You have gone far enough. On
ahead are only cruel hardship and continual failure. Here
are fortune, fame, wealth, ambition, honor--and more. I told
you one time I would lay my hand upon your shoulder out
yonder, no matter where you were. I said that you should
look into my face yonder when you sat alone beside your fire
under the stars. You said that it would be torment. I said
that none the less I would not let you go. I said my face
still should stay with you, until you were willing to turn
back.

Tu