As long as daylight lasted he dragged on his wearied limbs, till utter exhaustion and coming darkness rendered his further progress impossible.  To add to his misfortune, on attempting to kindle a fire, he found that his punk was damp, from the snow having come in contact with it when pressing his way through the swamp.  He now gave himself up for lost, for the night was extremely cold, and he had neither fire to warm him, nor roof to shelter his head.  To sleep thus he knew was certain death.  He therefore paced up and down as long as he was able to stand, but his boots were frozen stiff, and his feet numb with the cold.  After great difficulty he managed to pull off his boots, and having wrapped up his feet in his woollen cap, he lay down on the path he bad beaten in the snow, for he could no longer resist the inclination to sleep.

While in the act of lying down, he distinctly heard a cock crow at no great distance.  By a great effort he roused himself, and called as loudly as he was able.  Once he thought he heard an answer to his cry—­ again the horn seemed to ring in his ears,—­and then all was blank.

At daylight he was found by some of his own neighbours; one of whom was up early in the morning feeding his oxen, preparatory to a journey to the front, when he heard the shouts, which sounded to him like those of some person in distress.  He immediately blew his dinner horn, that the sound might guide the lost person, and having collected three or four of his neighbours, they started into the woods in the direction from whence the shouts of the lost man had proceeded.  Half a mile from the clearing, they came across his track, which they only followed for a few yards, when to their surprise they found their poor neighbour, whom at first they concluded to be dead.  It was some time indeed before they could wake him, so overpowered was he with fatigue and the death-like sleep he had fallen into.

His friends lost no time in carrying him home; but unfortunately they placed him near a large fire, instead of rubbing his hands and feet with snow.  The too sudden reaction of the blood caused him the most excruciating agony, for both his hands and feet were badly frozen.  At length Dr. Hutchinson* was sent for from Peterborough, who found mortification had commenced, and that there was no chance of the poor fellow’s recovery which proved too true, for he expired the next day, a week from the morning he was found.

[* Dr. Hutchinson, is a medical practitioner of great note, and one of the first settlers and oldest magistrates in that section of the country.  I had the particulars of this story from him; though, as it was some years ago, I may have made some mistake as to the exact locality.]

He, however, died in the arms of his afflicted wife, and was surrounded by his family, a privilege purchased at the expense of severe pain, but still one to the husband and father—­even though he had been snatched from his pangless death-sleep to possess it, poor fellow!