lought 

 iideed, 

 lad he 

 n rose, 

 before 

 I. But 

 ruitlcss 

 ne, and 

 id been 

 the ner- 

 hunger, 



at this 

 id it not 

 ;arly life 

 d, would 

 ' was, he 

 eeds and 

 spent in 

 tuation," 

 Almighty 

 ose unin- 

 than fifty 

 om which 



ing heat 



that if I 



or my axe 



iears now 



set of me, 



as in the 

 to pro- 



.ch. Sir, 

 did the 



1 



EPISODES 



325 



recollection of what had happened. "God," he contin- 

 ued, "must have taken pity on me one day, for, as I ran 

 wildly through those dreadful pine barrens, I met with a 

 tortoise. I gazed upon it with amazement and delight, 

 and, although I knew that were I to follow it undisturbed, 

 it would lead me to some water, my hunger and thirst 

 would not allow me to refrain from satisfying both, by 

 eating its flesh, and drinking its blood. With one stroke 

 of my axe the beast was cut in two, and in a few moments 

 I had despatched all but the shell. Oh, sir, how much I 

 thanked God, whose kindness had put the Tortoise in my 

 way! I felt greatly renewed. I sat down at the foot of 

 a pine, gazed on the Iieavens, thought of my poor wife 

 and children, and again and again thanked my God for 

 my life; for now I felt less distracted in mind, and more 

 assured that before long I must recover my way, and get 

 back to my home. " 



The Lost One remained and passed the night, at the 

 foot of the same tree under which his repast had been 

 made. Refreshed by a sound sleep, he started at dawn 

 to resume his weary march. The sun rose bright, and he 

 followed the direction of the shadows. Still the dreari- 

 ness of the woods was the same, and he was on the point 

 of giving up in despair, when he observed a Raccoon lying 

 squatted in the grass. Raising his axe, he drove it with 

 such violence through the helpless animal that it expired 

 without a struggle. What he had done with the tortoise, 

 he now did with the Raccoon, the greater part of which he 

 actually devoured at one meal. With more comfortable 

 feelings he then resumed his wanderings — his journey, I 

 cannot say — for although in the possession of all his 

 faculties, and in broad daylight, he was worse off than a 

 lame man groping his way in the dark out of a dungeon, 

 of which he knew not where the doors stood. 



Days, one after another, passed — nay, weeks in suc- 

 cession. He fed now on cabbage-trees, then on frogs 



¥^ 



