I penetrated through the wood, thick and thin, and more or less wet, to the distance I should think of three miles.  By this time my clothes were all thoroughly soaked through, and I felt once more a gloom and wretchedness; the recollection of which makes me shudder at this distant day.  My young friends in this highly favoured Christian country, surrounded with all the comforts of home and parental care, visited by pastors and Sabbath-school teachers, think of the dreary condition of the blacksmith boy in the dark wood that night; and then consider that thousands of his brethren have had to undergo much greater hardships in their flight from slavery.

I was now out of the hands of those who had so cruelly teased me during the day; but a number of fearful thoughts rushed into my mind to alarm me.  It was dark and cloudy, so that I could not see the north star.  How do I know what ravenous beasts are in this wood?  How do I know what precipices may be within its bounds?  I cannot rest in this wood to-morrow, for it will be searched by those men from whom I have escaped; but how shall I regain the road?  How shall I know when I am on the right road again?

These are some of the thoughts that filled my mind with gloom and alarm.

At a venture I struck an angle northward in search of the road.  After several hours of zigzag and laborious travel, dragging through briars, thorns and running vines, I emerged from the wood and found myself wading marshy ground and over ditches.

I can form no correct idea of the distance I travelled, but I came to a road, I should think about three o’clock in the morning.  It so happened that I came out near where there was a fork in the road of three prongs.

Now arose a serious query—­which is the right prong for me?  I was reminded by the circumstance of a superstitious proverb among the slaves, that “the left-hand turning was unlucky,” but as I had never been in the habit of placing faith in this or any similar superstition, I am not aware that it had the least weight upon my mind, as I had the same difficulty with reference to the right-hand turning.  After a few moments parley with myself, I took the central prong of the road and pushed on with all my speed.

It had not cleared off, but a fresh wind had sprung up; it was chilly and searching.  This with my wet clothing made me very uncomfortable; my nerves began to quiver before the searching wind.  The barking of mastiffs, the crowing of fowls, and the distant rattling of market waggons, warned me that the day was approaching.

My British reader must remember that in the region where I was, we know nothing of the long hours of twilight you enjoy here.  With us the day is measured more by the immediate presence of the sun, and the night by the prevalence of actual darkness.