130 A SPRING AND SUMMER IN LAPLAND. 



had never felt before, crept upon me. The 

 horrid thought suddenly flashed across my mind, 

 that if I gave way to this sensation for five 

 minutes I should soon sink into that sleep from 

 which there is no waking in this world. There 

 was now nothing to do but to keep moving, for I 

 knew that my life depended on it. If I could 

 struggle on till the morning, I had no fear ; but 

 I was nearly beaten, and I reckoned it still wanted 

 eight hours to sunrise ; so I roused myself up, 

 and again struck out — which way I knew not, 

 nor did I care. It would be a miracle if I reached 

 the village, and as to holding out till morning in 

 my present weak state, I fancied to be impossible. 

 When I fell benumbed with cold, the snow would 

 soon bury me ; all traces of me would be lost, and 

 there I should lie till the thaw came on. But as 

 long as there was life there was hope. To push 

 on was now my only alternative, and again I 

 struck out into the waste of snow. The cold had 

 caught one of my hands, and I had lost the use 

 of it, and my ears and nose felt just as if I could 

 have snapped them off like icicles. I could feel 

 the cold, as it were, gradually paralyzing me, so I 

 took a good roll in the snow like a dog, and it is 

 wonderful how that refreshed me. I luckily had 

 lots of tobacco for chewing, but no matches. I did 

 not feel hungry, and a handful of snow every now 



