The day dawned upon me when I was near a small house and barn, situate close to the road side.  The barn was too near the road, and too small to afford secure shelter for the day; but as I cast my eye around by the dim light, I could see no wood, and no larger barn.  It seemed to be an open country to a wide extent.  The sun was travelling so rapidly from his eastern chamber, that ten or fifteen minutes would spread broad daylight over my track.  Whether my deed was evil, you may judge, but I freely confess that I did then prefer darkness rather than light; I therefore took to the mow of the little barn at a great risk, as the events of the day will show.  It so happened that the barn was filled with corn fodder, newly cured and lately gotten in.  You are aware that however quietly one may crawl into such a bed, he is compelled to make much more noise than if it were a feather-bed; and also considerably more than if it were hay or straw.  Besides inflicting upon my own excited imagination the belief that I made noise enough to be heard by the inmates of the house who were likely to be rising at the time, I had the misfortune to attract the notice of a little house-dog, such as we call in that part of the world a “fice,” on account of its being not only the smallest species of the canine race, but also, because it is the most saucy, noisy, and teasing of all dogs.  This little creature commenced a fierce barking.  I had at once great fears that the mischievous little thing would betray me; I fully apprehended that as soon as the man of the house arose, he would come and make search in the barn.  It now being entirely daylight, it was too late to retreat from this shelter, even if I could have found another; I, therefore, bedded myself down into the fodder as best I could, and entered upon the annoyances of the day, with the frail hope to sustain my mind.

It was Thursday morning; the clouds that had veiled the sky during the latter part of the previous day and the previous night were gone.  It was not until about an hour after the sun rose that I heard any out-door movements about the house.  As soon as I heard those movements, I was satisfied there was but one man about the house, and that he was preparing to go some distance to work for the day.  This was fortunate for me; the busy movements about the yard, and especially the active preparations in the house for breakfast, silenced my unwelcome little annoyer, the fice, until after the man had gone, when he commenced afresh, and continued with occasional intermissions through the day.  He made regular sallies from the house to the barn, and after smelling about, would fly back to the house, barking furiously; thus he strove most skilfully throughout the entire day to raise an alarm.  There seemed to be no one about the house but one or two small children and the mother, after the man was gone.  About ten o’clock my attention was gravely directed to another trial: