neither
of swamp nor of danger, and in the heat of the chase did not observe that
the mounds became every moment fewer and farther between. Soon I found
myself in the middle of the swamp, and could neither advance nor retreat.
Not a human being could I descry; the very animals were far from me; and
this circumstance confirmed me as to the dangerous nature of the ground.
Nothing remained for me but to fix my eyes upon one point of the
landscape, and to step out boldly towards it. I was often obliged to
hazard two or three steps into the swamp itself, in order to gain the
next acclivity, upon which I would then stand triumphantly, to determine
my farther progress. So long as I could distinguish traces of horses'
hoofs, I had no fear; but even these soon disappeared, and I stood there
alone in the morass. I could not remain for ever on my tower of
observation, and had no resource but to take to the swamp once more. I
must confess that I experienced a very uncomfortable feeling of
apprehension when my foot sank suddenly into the soft mud; but when I
found that it did not rise higher than the ankles, my courage returned; I
stepped out boldly, and was fortunate enough to escape with the fright
and a thorough wetting.

The most arduous posts in the country are those of the medical men and
clergymen. Their sphere of action is very enlarged, particularly that of
the medical man, whose practice sometimes extends over a distance of
eighty to a hundred miles. When we add to this the severity of the
winter, which lasts for seven or eight months, it seems marvellous that
any one can be found to fill such a situation.

In winter the peasants often come with shovels, pickaxes, and horses to
fetch the doctor. They then go before him, and hastily repair the worst
part of the road; while the doctor rides sometimes on one horse,
sometimes on another, that they may not sink under the fatigue. And thus
the procession travels for many, many miles, through night and fog,
through storm and snow, for on the doctor's promptitude life and death
often hang. When he then returns, quite benumbed, and half dead with
cold, to the bosom of his family, in the expectation of rest and
refreshment, and to rejoice with his friends over the dangers and
hardships he has escaped, the poor doctor is frequently compelled to set
off at once on a new and important journey, before he has even had time
to greet the dear ones at home.

Sometimes he is se