Creeping carefully forward to take a reconnaissance of the interior before I asked for admission, I approached a small aperture, where a single pane of glass permitted a view. A great heap of blazing furze, that filled the old chimney of the tower, lit up the whole space, and enabled me to see a man who sat on a log of wood beside the hearth, with his head bent upon his knees. His dress was a coarse blouse of striped woollen descending to his knees, where a pair of gaiters of sheepskin were fastened by thongs of untanned leather; his head was bare, and covered only by a long mass of black hair, that fell in tangled locks down his back, and even over his face as he bent forward. A shepherd’s staff and a broad hat of felt lay on the ground beside him; there was neither chair nor table, nor, save some fern in one corner, anything that might serve as a bed; a large earthenware jug and a metal pot stood near the fire, and a knife, such as butchers kill with, lay beside them. Over the chimney, however, was suspended, by two thongs of leather, a sword, long and straight, like the weapon of the heavy cavalry of France; and, higher again, I could see a great piece of printed paper was fastened to the wall. As I continued to scan, one by one, these signs of utter poverty, the man stretched out his limbs and rubbed his eyes for a minute or two, and then with a start sprang to his feet, displaying, as he did so, the proportions of a most powerful and athletic frame. He was, as well as I could guess, about forty-five years of age; but hardship and suffering had worn deep lines about his face, which was sallow and emaciated. A black moustache, that hung down over his lip and descended to his chin, concealed the lower part of his face; the upper was bold and manly, the forehead high and well developed; but his eyes-- and I could mark them well as the light fell on him--were of an unnatural brilliancy; their sparkle had the fearful gleam of a mind diseased, and in their quick, restless glances through the room I saw that he was labouring under some insane delusion. He paced the room with a steady step, backwards and forwards, for a few minutes, and once, as he lifted his eyes above the chimney, he stopped abruptly and carried his hand to his forehead in a military salute, while he muttered something to himself. The moment after he threw open the door, and stepping outside, gave a long shrill whistle; he paused for a few seconds, and repeated it, when I could hear the distant barking of a dog replying to his call. Just then he turned abruptly, and with a spring seized me by the arm. ‘Who are you? What do you want here?’ said he, in a voice tremulous with passion. A few words--it was no time for long explanations--told him how I had lost my way in the mountain, and was in search of shelter for the night.