have been penetrated, every star was so shut up in thick darkness, that the heavens afforded no guide. A strange confusion of mind and terror fell upon me, my right-hand became as it were my left; I was lost-I ran wildly forward till a prostrate tree or cradle heap threw me down; soon after I plunged up to the middle in a marsh, then I came to the bank of a stream which I had not passed: its width and depth were unknown. Incapable of imagining what course I ought to take, worn out and throbbing with alarm at the idea of passing the night alone in the forest, I sat down on a rock, and for some time abandoned myself to fear. When the panic had a little subsided I rose, and again walked to a considerable distance forward, I heard, as I thought, the shouting of the settlers in quest of me, I hastened towards them. I had never been so far out into the wilderness before; I soon discovered the sound was not human voices; I could not divine what it was; I thought surely I had taken the direction of Olympus, and that the noise must be the dam of the saw-mill in that neighbourhood. This gave something like hope, and my strength and courage were revived with the thought of being so near shelter. Judge of my dismay, when on hastening on, I came to what I thought an opening in the wood, and found myself on the verge of a dreadful chasm, into which a great river was tumbling with a noise like the voice of the distant sea. I stood aghast at the danger into which I had run; a few paces farther, and I had been dashed in pieces at the bottom of the chasm. I became more alarmed than ever; this cataract was not known at the village; I was beyond all the landmarks that would have guided me by day. The return of the morning could promise no comfort, for I knew not in what direction to turn, and there was a weariness in my limbs that made farther travelling that night almost impossible; I was also so startled at finding myself so abruptly on the brink of destruction, that I was afraid to move a step from the spot where I halted; a bitter grief gathered at my heart, and instead of praying to Him by whom alone aid can be given, I cursed the hour of my birth. Deserted of all fortitude, I wept and wrung my hands, I thought of my young family helpless in the wilderness, and of all the adversities which had of late befallen me. When this paroxysm passed off, and I could more calmly consider my dangerous situation, I began to reflect that the river before me could be no other than the same which flowed by Babelmandel, and that as my strength was exhausted, I ought to rest where I was until daybreak, when I should follow down the course of the current, convinced that the falls were higher up the stream than the town. It is wonderful the effect this rational reflection had in calming my perturbation; I sat down on the ground, and leaning back against a tree, soon fell asleep, without once thinking of wolves. I did not, however, forget the snakes; but I thought they were then coiled up and snug in their winter. quarters. But the mildness of the weather had a preternatural influence upon them, and I was awoke about day-break with an unaccountable weight on my bosom, which caused me to start and jump up, when lo! a monstrous garter-snake, between three and four feet long fell from me. It was, however, so stiff, for the morning air was raw and cold, that I soon fulfilled the words of Scripture on it, by bruising its head flat with my heel. The rest, such as it was, had so well refreshed me, that I proceeded, as I had determined, to follow the course of the river; but I had not walked far, when the guns and horns were heard approaching, and presently some of the Settlers hove in view. They had been out in quest of me all night, to the number of more than seven hundred persons, and were beginning to fear I was lost for ever. It may, therefore, be easily supposed what a joy and revelry my re-appearance occasioned, and with what triumphing and shouting they conducted me home. CHAPTER IX. "It fortuned, out of the thickest wood, SHORTLY after my adventure, I was agreeably surprised by a visit from our old friend and uncle, Mr. Hoskins. It was not altogether unexpected, but it had come to pass a little earlier than we reckoned upon; the room intended for him not being then quite finished. However, we were all happy at the meeting, and as he had himself been a rough settler in the woods of Vermont, he was easily accommodated, and looked upon apologies as superfluities. Although he said nothing himself on the subject, yet I soon perceived that his visit to Babelmandel was not dictated altogether by affection |