the chair from his hand, and I was trying to pacify him by the assurance
that I required no guide when the irrepressible Wise again lifted his
voice:

"Theer's George comin'! why don't ye ask him? He'll go and introduce you
to Don Fernandy's darter, too, ef you ain't pertickler."

The laugh which followed this joke, which evidently had some domestic
allusion (the general tendency of rural pleasantry), was followed by a
light step on the platform, and the young man entered. Seeing a stranger
present, he stopped and colored, made a shy salute and colored again,
and then, drawing a box from the corner, sat down, his hands clasped
lightly together and his very handsome bright blue eyes turned frankly
on mine.

Perhaps I was in a condition to receive the romantic impression he made
upon me, and I took it upon myself to ask his company as guide, and he
cheerfully assented. But some domestic duty called him presently away.

The fire gleamed brightly on the hearth, and, no longer resisting the
prevailing influence, I silently watched the spurting flame, listening
to the wind which continually shook the tenement. Besides the one chair
which had acquired a new importance in my eyes, I presently discovered
a crazy table in one corner, with an ink bottle and pen; the latter
in that greasy state of decomposition peculiar to country taverns and
farmhouses. A goodly array of rifles and double-barreled guns stocked
the corner; half a dozen saddles and blankets lay near, with a mild
flavor of the horse about them. Some deer and bear skins completed the
inventory. As I sat there, with the silent group around me, the shadowy
gloom within and the dominant wind without, I found it difficult to