y who was naked and starving. He was a
bad-looking fellow; but a man naturally does look bad when his clothes
are in rags, and his bones protruding through his skin. I clothed him,
fed him, cared for him kindly, until he was able to travel, and then he
went away. The next Sunday, I was sitting outside the stockade, as
customary, reading some translations of the Greek poets, when, on
raising my eyes from the book to glance over the approach to my fort--I
was always on the alert--I beheld a VISION. Remember, I had not
seen a woman for a year and half! She was slowly advancing, riding with
superb grace a horse of great beauty and value, richly caparisoned. She
came slowly up the trail, as if to give me time for thought, and I
needed it. That picture is still indelibly impressed upon my mind; the
very flicker of the sunlight and shadow across the road, and the glitter
of her horse's trappings, as he champed his bit and arched his neck with
impatience at her restraining hand----. Are you very tired?" asked Ela,
suddenly.

"Never less so in my life; pray go on."

"You see I had been alone so long, and I am very susceptible. That
vision coming upon me suddenly as it did, in my solitude, gave me the
strangest sensations I ever had. I was spell-bound. Not so she. Reining
in her horse beside me, she squared around in her saddle, as if asking
assistance to dismount. Struggling with my embarrassment, I helped her
down, and she accepted my invitation into the fort, signifying, at the
same time, that she wished me to attend to stripping and feeding her
horse. This gave us mutually an opportunity to prepare for the coming
interview.

"When I returned to my guest, she had laid aside her riding-habit and
close sun-bonnet, and stood revealed a young, beautiful,
elegantly-dressed woman. To my unaccustomed eyes, she looked a goddess.
Her figure was noble; her eyes large, black, and melting; her hair long
and curling; her manner easy and attractive. She was hungry, she said;
would I give her something to eat? And, while I was on hospitable cares
intent, she read to me some of my Greek poems, especially an ode of one
of the votaries of Diana, with comments by herself. She was a splendid
reader. Well," said Ela, slowly, with a furtive glance at me, and in his
peculiar nasal tones, "you can guess whether a young man, used to the
mountains, as I was, and who had been disappointed and jilted as I had
been, enjoyed this sort of thing or not. I