But for the tall corn, Covey would have overtaken me, and made me his captive.

He seemed very much chagrined that he did not catch me, and gave up the chase, very reluctantly; for I could see his angry movements, toward the house from which he had sallied, on his foray.
Well, now I am clear of Covey, and of his wrathful lash, for present.
I am in the wood, buried in its somber gloom, and hushed in its solemn silence; hid from all human eyes; shut in with nature and nature's God, and absent from all human contrivances.

Here was a good place to pray; to pray for help for deliverance--a prayer I had often made before.

But how could I pray?
Covey could pray--Capt.

Auld could pray--I would fain pray; but doubts (arising partly from my own neglect of the means of grace, and partly from the sham religion which everywhere prevailed, cast in my mind a doubt upon all religion, and led me to the conviction that prayers were unavailing and delusive) prevented my embracing the opportunity, as a religious one.