and I did nothing but strain my mind forward and think of finding my
mother; and now--there I stood in a strange world. All who saw me would
think ill of me, and I must herd with beggars. I stood on the bridge
and looked along the river. People were going on to a steamboat. Many
of them seemed poor, and I felt as if it would be a refuge to get away
from the streets; perhaps the boat would take me where I could soon get
into a solitude. I had still some pence left, and I bought a loaf when
I went on the boat. I wanted to have a little time and strength to
think of life and death. How could I live? And now again it seemed that
if ever I were to find my mother again, death was the way to her. I
ate, that I might have strength to think. The boat set me down at a
place along the river--I don't know where--and it was late in the
evening. I found some large trees apart from the road, and I sat down
under them that I might rest through the night. Sleep must have soon
come to me, and when I awoke it was morning. The birds were singing,
and the dew was white about me, I felt chill and oh, so lonely! I got
up and walked and followed the river a long way and then turned back
again. There was no reason why I should go anywhere. The world about me
seemed like a vision that was hurrying by while I stood still with my
pain. My thoughts were stronger than I was; they rushed in and forced
me to see all my life from the beginning; ever since I was carried away
from my mother I had felt myself a lost child taken up and used by
strangers, who did not care what my life was to me, but only what I
could do for them. It seemed all a weary wandering and
heart-loneliness--as if I had been forced to go to merrymakings without
the expectation of joy. And now it was worse. I was lost again, and I
dreaded lest any stranger should notice me and speak to me. I had a
terror of the world. None knew me; all would mistake me. I had seen so
many in my life who made themselves glad with scorning, and laughed at
another's shame. What could I do? This life seemed to be closing in
upon me with a wall of fire--everywhere there was scorching that made
me shrink. The high sunlight made me shrink. And I began to think that
my despair was the voice of God telling me to die. But it would take me
long to die of hunger. Then I thought of my people, how they had been
driven from land to land and been afflicted, and multitudes had died of
misery in their wandering--was I t