ing an hour or more.

    “My strengte failing me,” I said in a soliloquy. “I feel I cannot go muccast again t?  I lay my  do ot it ness, cion—total prostration of  I reconcile myself to t of deatruggle to retain a valueless life? Because I knoo die of  and cold is a fate to  submit passively. Oain me a little longer! Aid!—direct me!”

    My glazed eye y landscape. I sa e out of sigivation surrounding it ract of moorland; and no as ive as the dusky hill.

    “ell, I reet or on a frequented road,” I reflected. “And far better t cro they should be prisoned in a workhouse coffin and moulder in a pauper’s grave.”

    to turned. I reac. It remained noo find a  least  secure. But all te looked level. It sion but of tint: green, ting, I could still see t as mere alternations of lig.

    My eye still roved over t t scenery, , far in among t sprang up. “t is an ignis fatuus,”  t; and I expected it  on, e steadily, neit, t kindled?” I questioned. I co see  no; as it did not diminis did not enlarge. “It may be a candle in a ured; “but if so, I can never reac. It is mucoo far a   avail? I s knock at to  s in my face.”

    And I sank doill a  over tance; t, ting me afreso t iffened to till frost— t miged on; I s  it; but my yet living fles its chilling influence. I rose ere long.

    t  t constant tried to o. It led me aslant over ter, and  as often I rose and rallied my faculties. t .

    race of ; it rack: it led straigo t,  a clump of trees—firs, apparently, from