LETTERS FROM AN OREGON RANCH
shadows, nor define what it is they say to me, nor make clear even to myself the secret of their silent ministry. I only know they soothe and tranquillize and restore. Perhaps the Father, mindful of the solitariness of his mountain children, sends these soft wings of peace to hover over them, in token of His unforgetting love and care.
If through an unkind fate I should suffer banishment from this land of enchantment, I know I should be homesick day and night for the “Sisters of the gray veil,” as Tom calls them. He often comes in saying, “The gray veils have camped among the firs to-day,” or “The Sisters of the gray veil are climbing the hills this morning,” and somehow the name satisfies my sense of kinship with them.
About this time I enjoyed some delightful walks with my new acquaintance, the young lady who gave me Sheila. She had just returned from a distant ranch where she had gone to spend the holiday season, and where she had been imprisoned by high waters for many weeks. We call this young lady “Di Vernon,” because of her adventurous spirit and love of out-door life. We met her once or twice soon after our arrival here, but before we had become fairly acquainted she went to visit friends in Colorado, where she remained many months, and we did not meet again until about a year ago. If she had been at home during our long winter, we should have been less lonely, as she, in short
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