128 AUDUBON THE NATURALIST. 



his sole consolation prayer to that Being ever 

 pecnliarlj mindful of the disconsolate and dis- 

 tressed. Dawn brought a return of the fog which 

 had so misled the wanderer on the preceding day. 



With heavy heart he continued his way, 

 which seemed at every step still more a laby- 

 rinth than before. Bewildered with fatigue and 

 misery, well nigh despairing, onward he sped, 

 now without the most faintly marked track to 

 guide him, till night closed again upon his path. 

 Terror then took possession of him, while the 

 debility arising from his toils and sufferings 

 prostrated him beneath his anguish, at the dread- 

 ful reality of his situation, increased too by the 

 horrors of an excited fancy. 



That he should be left alone there to perish 

 of agony and hunger — such he felt assured 

 would be his fate. Almost frantic at the sup- 

 position, beating his breast and tearing his hair, 

 he threw himself down, famished as he was, to 

 feed on the weeds and grass around. Another 

 night was passed in indescribable misery. More 

 than fifty miles he had traversed without meet- 

 ing a single brook from which to quench his 

 thirst, or allay the burning fever of his parched 

 lips. One day among the Barrens, he caught 

 sight of a tortoise. Although convinced that 

 were he to follow it, he must at length find 

 some water, such was the fearful craving of 



