70 THE LOST ONE. 



gotten ghost that had passed into the land of spirits, without yet meeting 

 one of his kind with whom to hold converse. 



The condition of a man lost in the woods is one of the most perplexing 

 that could be imagined by a person who has not himself been in a like pre- 

 dicament. Every object he sees, he at first thinks he recognises, and while 

 his whole mind is bent on searching for more that may gradually lead to 

 his extrication, he goes on committing greater errors the farther he pro- 

 ceeds. This was the case with the live-oaker. The sun was now setting 

 with a fiery aspect, and by degrees it sunk in its full circular form, as if 

 giving warning of a sultry morrow. Myriads of insects, delighted at its 

 departure, now filled the air on buzzing wings. Each piping frog arose 

 from the muddy pool in which it had concealed itself ; the squirrel retired 

 to its hole, the crow to its roost, and, far above, the harsh croaking voice 

 of the heron announced that, full of anxiety, it was wending its way to 

 the miry interior of some distant swamp. Now the woods began to re- 

 sound to the shrill cries of the owl ; and the breeze, as it swept among the 

 columnar stems of the forest-trees, came laden with heavy and chilling 

 dews. Alas, no moon with her silvery light shone on the dreary scene, and 

 the Lost One, wearied and vexed, laid himself down on the damp ground. 

 Prayer is always consolatory to man in every difficulty or danger, and the 

 woodsman fervently prayed to his Maker, wished his family a happier 

 night than it was his lot to experience, and with a feverish anxiety waited 

 the return of day. 



You may imagine the length of that cold, dull, moonless night. With 

 the dawn of day came the usual fogs of those latitudes. The poor man 

 started on his feet, and with a sorrowful heart, pursued a course which he 

 thought might lead him to some familiar object, although, indeed, he 

 scarcely knew what he was doing. No longer had he the trace of a track 

 to guide him, and yet, as the sun rose, he calculated the many hours of 

 day-light he had before him, and the farther he went continued to walk 

 the faster. But vain were all his hopes : that day was spent in fruitless 

 endeavours to regain the path that led to his home, and when night again 

 approached, the terror that had been gradually spreading over his mind, 

 together with the nervous debility induced by fatigue, anxiety, and hun- 

 ger, rendered him almost frantic. He told me that at this moment he 

 beat his breast, tore his hair, and, had it not been for the piety with which 

 his parents had in early life imbued his mind, and which had become ha- 

 bitual, would have cursed his existence. Famished as he now was, he laid 



