yself under
the shrubs which shaded the place of their repose, and remained a long
while wrapt in the most melancholy reflections. All the misfortunes we
had experienced since our shipwreck, came across my mind, and I asked
myself, how I had been able to endure them? I thought that, at this
instant, a secret voice said to me, you will yet have greater to
deplore. Terrified by this melancholy presentiment, I strove to rise,
but my strength failing me, I fell on my knees upon the grave. After
having addressed my prayers to the Eternal, I felt a little more
tranquil; and, quitting this melancholy spot, old Etienne led me back to
Babaguey, where my canoe waited for me. The heat was excessive; however,
I endured it, rather than wait for the coolness of evening to return to
my father. On my arrival at St Louis, I found him in a violent passion
at a certain personage of the colony, who, without any regard to his
condition, had said the most humiliating things to him. This scene had
contributed, in no small degree, to aggravate his illness; for, on the
evening of the same day, the fever returned, and a horrible delirium
darkened all his faculties. We spent a terrible night, expecting every
moment to be his last. The following day found little change in his
condition, except a small glimmering of reason at intervals. In one of
these moments, when we hoped he would recover his health, M. Dard, whom
we thought already far from Senegal, entered our house. My father
instantly recognised him, and, making him sit near to his bed, took his
hand, and said, "My last hour is come; Heaven, to whose decrees I humbly
submit, will soon remove me from this world; but one consolation
remains with me,--the thought you will not abandon my children. I
recommend to you my oldest daughter; you are dear to her, doubt not;
would she were your wife, and that you were to her, as you have always
been to me, a sincere friend!" On saying these words, he took my hands
and pressed them to his burning lips. Tears suffocated my voice, but I
pressed him tenderly in my arms; and as he saw I was extremely affected
with his situation, he quickly said to me, "My daughter, I have need of
rest." I instantly quitted him, and was joined by M. Dard, when we
retired to another room, where we found Caroline and the good Mad.
Thomas. This worthy friend seeing the deplorable condition to which we
were reduced, endeavoured to console us, and to give us hope, saying,
that havi