128 AUDUBON THE NATURALIST, 
his sole consolation prayer to that Being ever 
peculiarly mindful of the disconsolate and dis: 
tressed. Dawn brought a return of the fog which 
lad so misled the wanderer on the preceding duy. 
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 diéad- 
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 m-et- 
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 
