The moon in its last quarter was just peeping over a near mountain. Its light, partly obstructed by a network of tree-tops, was throwing figures of light and shade over the adjacent opening, so that the ground appeared to have spread upon it a colossal carpet, with fantastic decorations of ebony and silver. The air had grown a trifle cooler. A gentle breeze was stirring out of the West, and the silence, that had recently fallen so mysteriously upon me, was being followed now by a normal condition of unrest. As the moon rose higher, its fanciful shadows upon the ground dissolved, and the level plateau adjacent to my window was uniformly covered with a clear, bright light. Looking again, and quite sensibly impressed with the changed condition of things about me, I descried the figure of a man, not far from my window; and, strange to say, I was neither alarmed nor startled at his presence. His face, of which I saw but little more than its profile, was turned upward looking at the moon, and its expression was unmistakably one of admiration and wonder. His long, and apparently well-cared-for hair and beard, reflected a golden sheen under the light above. His arms were folded, and his shape and attitude impressed me as being majestic. While fixing my gaze intently on this strange form, an expression of something wanting about it took possession of me, when presently I observed with surprise, that although standing under the bright and unobstructed light of the moon, no shadow was visible about it. He remained for some time as immovable as a statue, gazing upon our satellite as one who had never before looked upon so wondrous a sight, and then, with the air of one on unfamiliar ground, he made an inquiring survey of my cabin, and then directed his careful footsteps toward my doorway. CHAPTER II.