again assailed me, and I was frightened at my own wild imaginings.  I thought of the nuns who had been murdered so cruelly, and I listened to the voice of the storm, as to the despairing wail of a lost soul.  The wind swept fiercely through the leafless branches, now roaring like a tornado, again rising to a shrill shriek, or a prolonged whistle, then sinking to a hollow murmer, and dying away in a low sob which sounded to my excited fancy like the last convulsive sigh of a breaking heart.  Once and again I paused, faint and dizzy with hunger and fatigue, feeling as though I could go no further.  But there was no alternative.  I must go on or perish.  And go on I did, though, as I now look back upon that night’s experience, I wonder how I managed to do so.  But a kind providence, undoubtedly, watched over me, and good angels guided me on my way.  Some time in the night, I think it must have been past twelve o’clock, I became so very weary I felt that I must rest awhile at all events.  It was so dark I could not see a step before me, but I groped my way to a fence, seated myself on a stone with my head resting against the rails, and in that position I fell asleep.

How long I slept, I do not know.  I think it must have been some hours.  When I awoke, my clothes were drenched with rain, and I was so stiff and lame, I could hardly move.  But go I must, so I resolved to make the best of it, and hobble along as well as I could.  At last I reached the village, but it was not yet morning, and I dared not stop.  I kept on till daylight, and as soon as I thought people were up, I went up to a house and rapped.  A woman came to the door, and I asked if she would allow me to go in, and dry my clothes, and I would have added, get some breakfast, but her looks restrained me.  They were getting breakfast, but did not invite me to partake of it, and I dared not ask for anything to eat.  When my clothes were dry, I thanked them for the use of their fire, and inquired how far it was to the next village.  They said the next town was Highgate, but they did not know the distance.

My tears flowed freely when I again found myself in the street, cold, hungry, almost sick, and entirely friendless.  What should I do?  What would become of me?  One thought alone gave courage to my desponding heart, buoyed up my sinking spirits, and restored strength to my weary limbs.  I was striving for liberty, that priceless boon, so dear to every human heart.  I might, perhaps, obtain it.  At least, I would try.

Nerved to renewed effort by thoughts like these, I toiled onward.  All that day I walked without a particle of nourishment.  When I reached Highgate, it was eleven o’clock at night, but in one house I saw a light, and I ventured to rap at the door.  It was opened by a pale, but pleasant looking woman.  “Kind lady,” said I, “will you please tell me how far it is to the States?” “To the States!” she exclaimed, and in a moment she seemed to understand both my character and situation.