188 LIFE OF AUDUBON. 



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 daylight 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 

 debUity induced by fatigue, anxiety, and hunger — 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 habitual, would have cursed his existence. 



" Famished as he now was, he laid himself on the ground, and 

 fed on the weeds and grass that grew around him. That night 

 was spent in the greatest agony and terror. 'I knew my 

 situation,' he said to me. 'I was fully aware that, unless 

 Almighty God came to my assistance, I must perish in those 

 uninhabited woods. I knew that I had walked more than fifty 

 miles, although I had not met with a brook from which I 

 could quench my thirst, or even allay the burning heat of my 

 parched lips and bloorlshot eyes. 



" ' I knew that if I could not meet with some stream I must 

 die, for my axe was my only weapon ; and although deer and 

 bears now and then started within a few yards or even feet of 

 me, not one of them could I kill ; and although I was in the 

 midst of abundance, not a mouthful did I expect to procure, to 

 satisfy the cravings of my empty stomach. Sir, may God pre- 

 serve you from ever feeling as I did the whole of that day !' 

 For several days after no one can imagine the condition in 

 which he was, for when he related to me this painful adventure, 

 he assured me he had lost all recollection of what had happened. 

 • God,' he continued, ' 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 delight and amazement, 

 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 



