foot of the
mountain, the summit of which would reveal to my friend localities
which he could recognize, and from which he could tell our bearings
and distances, we called a halt. After apologizing for our rudeness
on the plea of self-preservation, and thanking him for his enforced
service, we bade him good-night, not doubting that he would reach
the river in time to ferry himself over before daylight, and console
his frightened wife by the sight of the golden bribe.

We were now, at eleven o'clock at night, under the shadow of a dark
mountain, and with no knowledge of the course we were to take, other
than the general purpose of pressing northward.

After making some miles of headway and rising several hundred feet,
we struck off at a right angle from the road, worked our way for a
mile among the rocks, and tying our horses, lay down under an
overhanging cliff and tried to sleep. But I wooed Somnus in vain.
My brain and heart were too full. On the verge of a Canaan, for
which I had looked and struggled daring thirteen wearisome months,
would I now reach it in peace, or must other perils be encountered,
and I perhaps thrust back into a dungeon to meet a deserter's fate?
The future was still uncertain, and my mind turned backward,
recalling childhood's joys and a mother's undying love. Oh, how I
longed for one gentle caress from her soft hand to soothe me into
sleep, and how vividly came back to my memory words committed long
ago,--words which, with slight change, tenderly expressed the
longing of my spirit that night. I sank into forgetfulness,
repeating over and over those sweet strains:

"Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight;
Make me a child again, just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the far-distant shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.

"Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toils and of tears,
Toil without recompense,--tears all in vain,--
Take them, and give me my childhood again.
I have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away,
Weary of sowing for others to reap,--
Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep.

"Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my