ime must be of
interest to one who has brooded upon the subject as long as you have.

The person to whom I allude is a certain Mark Felt, a most eccentric and
unhappy being now living the life of a recluse amid the forests of the
Catskills. I became acquainted with his name at the time of my first
investigation into the history of the Dudleigh and Urquhart families,
and it was to him I was referred when I asked for such particulars as
mere neighbors and public officials found it impossible to give.

I was told, however, at the same time, that I should find it hard to
gain his confidence, as for sixteen years now he had avoided the
companionship of men, by hiding in the caves and living upon such food
as he could procure through the means of gun and net. A disappointment
in love was said to be at the bottom of this, the lady he was engaged to
having thrown herself into the river at about the time of the marriage
of his friend.

He was, notwithstanding, a good-hearted man, and if I could once break
through the reserve he had maintained for so many years, they thought I
would be able to surprise facts from him which I could never hope to
reach in any other way.

Interested by these insinuations, and somewhat excited, for an old man,
at the prospect of bearding such a lion in his den, I at once made up my
mind to seek this Felt; and accordingly one bright day last week
crossed the river and entered the forest. I was not alone. I had taken a
guide who knew the location of the cave which Felt was supposed to
inhabit, and through his efforts my journey was made as little fatiguing
as possible. Fallen brambles were removed from my path, limbs lifted,
and where the road was too rough for the passage of such faltering feet
as mine, I found myself lifted bodily, in arms as strong and steadfast
as steel, and carried like a child to where it was smoother.

Thus I was enabled to traverse paths that at first view appeared
inaccessible, and finally reached a spot so far up the mountain side
that I gazed behind me in terror lest I should never be able to return
again the way I had come. My guide, seeing my alarm, assured me that our
destination was not far off, and presently I perceived before me a huge
overhanging cliff, from the upper ledges of which hung down a tangle of
vines and branches that veiled, without wholly concealing, the yawning
mouth of a cave.

"That is where the man we are seeking lives, eats, and sleeps," quoth