His comfortable bed in the little black house was preferable to the cold ground, even with the primeval forest for a chamber; but circumstances alter cases, and he did not waste any vain regrets about the necessity of his position.

After finding a secluded spot in the wood, he raked the dry leaves together for a bed, and offering his simple but fervent prayer to the Great Guardian above, he lay down to rest.

The owl screamed his dismal note, and the whip-poor-will still repeated his monotonous song; but they were good company in the solitude of the dark forest.
He could not go to sleep for a time, so strange and exciting were the circumstances of his position.

He thought of a thousand things, but he could not _think_ himself to sleep, as he was wont to do.

At last nature, worn out by fatigue and anxiety, conquered the circumstances, and he slept..