and encouragement the most, I felt a vague assurance that
my wife was by my side; and I verily believe, that if it had not been
for this,--hallucination, delusion, actuality, reality, or whatever it
may have been,--I should now be in a land where the truth about these
things is probably known for certain.

At times I even thought I saw my wife. And often, often throughout
those terrible days her voice came to me, kindly and low and
encouraging. When I felt I really could plod no farther through the
snow, her voice would tell me not to lose heart, but to do my best, and
all would be right in the end. And when, wearied beyond measure at
night, I would fall into a heavy sleep, and my fire would burn low, a
hand on my shoulder would arouse me, and her voice would tell me to get
up and throw on more wood. Now and again I fancied I heard the voice
of my mother, who died when I was a boy, also encouraging and
reassuring me. Indescribably comforting were those voices, whatever
their origin may have been. They soothed me, and brought balm for my
loneliness. In the wilderness, and amid the falling snow, those that
loved me were ministering unto me and keeping me from harm. At least,
so it seemed to me. And now, as I think of those dear voices, and feel
once more that loving touch on my shoulder, there comes back to me that
verse from the Psalm George read at our parting--"For He shall give His
angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways."

It is all like a half-dream to me now. I know that after Saturday
night (October 24th), when I bivouacked within a stone's throw of
Hubbard's tent, I lost all count of the days, and soon could not recall
even the month. I travelled on and on, always down the valley.
Sometimes I fancied I heard men shouting, and I would reply. But the
men did not come, and I would say to myself over and over again, "Man
proposes, God disposes; it is His will and best for all."

The flour mould nauseated me to such an extent that for a day at a time
I could not force myself to eat it. The snow clogged in all that was
left of my cowhide moccasins (larigans), and I took them off and
fastened them to my belt, walking thereafter in my stocking feet. I
wore two pairs of woollen socks, but holes already were beginning to
appear in the toes and heels. The bushes tore away the legs of my
trousers completely, and my drawers, which thus became the sole
protection of my legs from the middle of my t