After lying there about three quarters of an hour, brooding over the singular and mournful lot to which I was doomed, my mind passing over the whole scale or circle of belief and unbelief, from faith in the overruling providence of God, to the blackest atheism, I again took up my journey toward St.Michael's, more weary and sad than in the morning when I left Thomas Auld's for the home of Mr.Covey.I was bare-footed and bare-headed, and in{177} my shirt sleeves.

The way was through bogs and briers, and I tore my feet often during the journey.

I was full five hours in going the seven or eight miles; partly, because of the difficulties of the way, and partly, because of the feebleness induced by my illness, bruises and loss of blood.

On gaining my master's store, I presented an appearance of wretchedness and woe, fitted to move any but a heart of stone.

From the crown of my head to the sole of my feet, there were marks of blood.