brought in and put to service. The lady
passenger chose a place near the hearth at one end of the arc. There
she graced almost a throne that her subjects had prepared. She sat
upon cushions and leaned against an empty box and barrel, robe
bespread, which formed a defence from the invading draughts. She
extended her feet, delectably shod, to the cordial heat. She ungloved
her hands, but retained about her neck her long fur boa. The unstable
flames half revealed, while the warding boa half submerged, her face--
a youthful face, altogether feminine, clearly moulded and calm with
beauty's unchallenged confidence. Chivalry and manhood were here vying
to please and comfort her. She seemed to accept their devoirs--not
piquantly, as one courted and attended; nor preeningly, as many of her
sex unworthily reap their honours; not yet stolidly, as the ox
receives his hay; but concordantly with nature's own plan--as the lily
ingests the drop of dew foreordained to its refreshment.

Outside the wind roared mightily, the fine snow whizzed through the
cracks, the cold besieged the backs of the immolated six; but the
elements did not lack a champion that night. Judge Menefee was
attorney for the storm. The weather was his client, and he strove by
special pleading to convince his companions in that frigid jury-box
that they sojourned in a bower of roses, beset only by benignant
zephyrs. He drew upon a fund of gaiety, wit, and anecdote,
sophistical, but crowned with success. His cheerfulness communicated
itself irresistibly. Each one hastened to contribute his own quota
toward the general optimism. Even the lady passenger was moved to
expression.

"I think it is quite charming," she said, in her slow, crystal tones.

At intervals some one of the passengers would rise and humorously
explore the room. There was little evidence to be collected of its
habitation by old man Redruth.

Bildad Rose was called upon vivaciously for the ex-hermit's history.
Now, since the stage-driver's horses were fairly comfortable and his
passengers appeared to be so, peace and comity returned to him.

"The old didapper," began Bildad, somewhat irreverently, "infested
this here house about twenty year. He never allowed nobody to come
nigh him. He'd duck his head inside and slam the door whenever a team
drove along. There was spinning-wheels up in his loft, all right. He
used to buy his groceries and tobacco at Sam Tilly's store, on the
Little Muddy. Last Au