rs from Revelation,
overflowing as it does with the most impressive grandeur and
awe-inspiring glimpse of the mysterious life from whose portals no human
being has ever turned back to whisper to the vast procession waiting to
follow in his footsteps.

Mrs. Carleton saw that Deerfoot did not like her words of compliment and
she therefore refrained. When he had finished, he closed the book and
laid it away where he always carried it, and then the conversation went
on in the same vein as before.

But the hour was later than that to which the good lady was accustomed,
and, despite the singular interest of the interview, she began to feel a
slight drowsiness. When she placed her hand over her mouth and yawned,
Deerfoot asked that she should retire. She consented, and bade him
good-night and withdrew.

He sat motionless until he was alone, when he once more drew out his
Bible and resumed reading. The fire having smoldered, he stirred the
sticks, turning the unburned ends among the coals, so that in a few
moments the small room was filled with a brighter illumination than
before. Leaning backward with the book in front of his face and his
shapely legs extended in front, he studied with an interest more
absorbing than was ever felt by the most devout novel reader. He seemed
to lose all consciousness of time and place, and pored over the volume
which to him was more precious than any treasure it is possible for the
mind to conceive.

By-and-by the fire burned low again and the light grew dim. Though the
youth might have continued the perusal much longer, he finally ceased
and put the book away for the night. Then, folding his arms, he looked
into the smoldering embers before him. Every one knows how such a scene
feeds the fancy and how imagination will run riot, while sitting alone
late at night, with the wind moaning outside, while he watches the
curious, grotesque, and endless procession of figures which take shape
and action before him. No one but Deerfoot himself could tell what
thoughts took shape in his brain, but they must have been of a
melancholy, serious nature, for he drew a deep sigh, muttered a few
words in prayer, and then deliberately lay down in the middle of the
floor. He lay on his side, with his arm doubled under his head for a
pillow, but had nothing but the hard planking beneath and nothing except
his own clothing above.

Deerfoot required little sleep, and within less than two hours after he
had lain