ght　it　in　the　wood　I　have　before　alluded　to。　But　my　night　was　wretched；　my　rest　broken：　the　ground　was　damp；　the　air　cold：　besides；　intruders　passed　near　me　more　than　once；　and　I　had　again　and　again　to　change　my　quarters；　no　sense　of　safety　or　tranquillity　befriended　me。　Towards　morning　it　rained；　the　whole　of　the　following　day　was　wet。　Do　not　ask　me；　reader；　to　give　a　minute　account　of　that　day；　as　before；　I　sought　work；　as　before；　I　was　repulsed；　as　before；　I　starved；　but　once　did　food　pass　my　lips。　At　the　door　of　a　cottage　I　saw　a　little　girl　about　to　throw　a　mess　of　cold　porridge　into　a　pig　trough。　“Will　you　give　me　that？”　I　asked。

She　stared　at　me。　“Mother！”　she　exclaimed；　“there　is　a　woman　wants　me　to　give　her　these　porridge。”

“Well　lass；”　replied　a　voice　within；　“give　it　her　if　she’s　a　beggar。　T　pig　doesn’t　want　it。”

The　girl　emptied　the　stiffened　mould　into　my　hand；　and　I　devoured　it　ravenously。

As　the　wet　twilight　deepened；　I　stopped　in　a　solitary　bridle…path；　which　I　had　been　pursuing　an　hour　or　more。

“My　strength　is　quite　failing　me；”　I　said　in　a　soliloquy。　“I　feel　I　cannot　go　much　farther。　Shall　I　be　an　outcast　again　this　night？　While　the　rain　descends　so；　must　I　lay　my　head　on　the　cold；　drenched　ground？　I　fear　I　cannot　do　otherwise：　for　who　will　receive　me？　But　it　will　be　very　dreadful；　with　this　feeling　of　hunger；　faintness；　chill；　and　this　sense　of　desolation—this　total　prostration　of　hope。　In　all　likelihood；　though；　I　should