m that he was taller, and he was certainly heavier. Wishing
to profit to the utmost, and, having a natural neatness, he looked after
himself with great care, bathing inside the reefs once every day, and,
whether there was work to be done or not, taking plenty of exercise.

He lost count of the days, but he knew that he was far into the autumn,
that in truth winter must have come in his own and distant north. That
thought at times was almost maddening. Doubtless the snow was already
falling on the peaks that had seen so many gallant exploits by his
comrades and himself, and on George and Champlain, the lakes so
beautiful and majestic under any aspect. Those were the regions he
loved. When would he see them again? But such thoughts, too, he crushed
and saw only the ship that was to take him back to his own.

Some change in the weather came, and he was aware that the winter of the
south was at hand. Yet it was not cold. There was merely a fresh sparkle
in the air, a new touch of crispness. Low, gray skies were a relief,
after so much blazing sunshine, and the cool winds whipped his blood to
new life. The house had a fireplace and chimney and often he built a low
fire, not so much for the sake of warmth as for the cheer that the
sparkling blaze gave. Then he could imagine that he was back in his
beloved province of New York. Now the snow was certainly pouring down
there. The lofty peaks were hidden in clouds of white, and the ice was
forming around the edges of Andiatarocte and Oneadatote. Perhaps Willet
and Tayoga were scouting in the snowy forests, but they must often hang
over the blazing fires, too.

The coldness without, the blaze on the hearth, and the warmth within
increased his taste for reading and his comprehension seemed to grow
also. He found new meanings in the classics and he became saturated also
with style. His were the gifts of an orator, and it was often said in
after years, when he became truly great, that his speech, in words, in
metaphor and in illustration followed, or at least were influenced, by
the best models. Some people found in him traces of Shakespeare, the
lofty imagery and poetry and the deep and wide knowledge of human
emotions, of life itself. Others detected the mighty surge of Homer, or
the flow of Virgil, and a few discerning minds found the wit shown in
the comedies of the Restoration, from which he had unconsciously plucked
the good, leaving the bad.

It is but a truth to say that e