e said (except where Deerfoot was one of the figures), had
never been seen anywhere else, and was not likely ever to be seen again.

The fire sank lower and the light on the printed page became so dim that
even the keen eyes of the young Shawanoe could not trace the words. He
looked at the embers as if asking himself whether he should renew the
blaze and continue reading. But the hour for meditation had come, and he
closed the book. Looking fondly at the stiff, wooden cover, he touched
his lips with infinite tenderness to it, and carefully placed it in the
inner receptacle of his hunting-shirt, murmuring as he did so:

"The best friend that Deerfoot ever knew!"

O light of life! Comforter of the sorrowing heart! Consoler of the
stricken soul!

In the flush of bounding health, when the passions throb high, we may
not heed thy blessed teachings, but when man's promises prove false, and
the head bows before the endless strife, and woes overwhelm us like a
flood, there is relief, there is light, there is life in Thee. The
wicked may jeer, the learned may scoff, the powerful may despise, the
favored may turn away, but there comes the time when learning, gifts,
wealth, power, beauty and all the world can give turn to ashes, and they
have no boon compared to Thine. "And God shall wipe away all tears from
their eyes." The pampered monarch, the dying beggar, the statesman, the
slave, the mother bowed with woe, the father shaken with grief,
childhood in its innocence, man in his strength, beauty in its scorn,
trembling old age, can find no balm but in Thee. Better that the sun
should be blotted from the heavens and the earth left a trackless void
than that Thy light should be denied the world.

Deerfoot lay flat on his face, his arms crossed so that his head and
shoulders were held a few inches above the flinty floor, and his dark
eyes were fixed on the embers in front. It was his favorite enjoyment,
when the stirring incidents of the day were done, and he had read from
the only Book he ever wanted to read, to spend a time in meditating on
the truths that it may be said had become a part of his very being.

Many a time had he lain thus, as motionless as if dead, while the
wonderful brain was busy with thoughts that stirred the profoundest
depths of his nature. There are beliefs that come to us at which reason
may laugh, but which it can not shake or disturb. There are questions
that the glib unbeliever may ask that we can no