"No; but I do not care for anything to eat, thank you."
"Strange tramp, that," said the man to himself, "not to want anything to
eat. Well, go into the shanty and warm yourself, anyway."
In the shanty, Rupert found an old stove glowing with a hot fire, by the
side of which he seated himself. The night was chilly in that high
altitude, and Rupert spread out his palms to the warmth. Inside the
house, he heard the rattle of dishes and the voices of women. Then
strains of songs floated out to him, and he became an intent listener.
Soon from out the humming came two sweet voices, singing. Rupert sat as
one spellbound, as the song seemed to melt into his soul:
"O my Father, thou that dwellest
In the high and glorious place!
When shall I regain thy presence,
And again behold thy face?
In thy holy habitation,
Did my spirit once reside;
In my first primeval childhood,
Was I nurtured near thy side.
"For a wise and glorious purpose
Thou hast placed me here on earth,
And withheld the recollection
Of my former friends and birth;
Yet ofttimes a secret something
Whispered, You're a stranger here;
And I felt that I had wandered
From a more exalted sphere.
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