CHAPTER XX.
I moved forward with as quick a pace as my feeble limbs would permit: I did not allow myself to meditate. The great object of my wishes was a dwelling where food and repose might be procured. I looked earnestly forward, and on each side, in search of some token of human residence; but the spots of cultivation, the well-pole, the worm-fence, and the hay-rick, were no where to be seen; I did not even meet with a wild hog or a bewildered cow. The path was narrow, and on either side was a trackless wilderness: on the right and left were the waving lines of mountainous ridges, which had no peculiarity enabling me to ascertain whether I had ever before seen them.
At length I noticed that the tracks of wheels had disappeared from the path that I was treading; that it became more narrow, and exhibited fewer marks of being frequented. These appearances were discouraging: I now suspected that I had taken a wrong direction; and instead of approaching, was receding from the habitation of men.
It was wisest, however, to proceed: the road could not but have some origin, as well as end. Some hours passed away in this uncertainty. The sun rose, and by noonday I seemed to be further than ever from the end of my toils: the path was more obscure, and the wilderness more rugged: thirst more incommoded me than hunger, but relief was seasonably afforded by the brooks that flowed across the path.
Coming to one of these, and having slaked my thirst, I sat down upon the bank, to reflect on my situation: the circuity of the path had frequently been noticed; and I began to suspect that though I had travelled long, I had not moved far from the spot where I had commenced my pilgrimage.
Turning my eyes on all sides, I noticed a sort of pool, formed by the rivulet, at a few paces distant from the road: in approaching and inspecting it, I observed the footsteps of cattle, who had retired by a path that seemed much
