ers may think, therefore, of the history of events of the
day, do not admire in it the fabrications; but _see_ in it the impediments
that often fall into the pathway of the flying bondman. _See_ how human
bloodhounds gratuitously chase, catch, and tempt him to shed blood and
lie; how, when he would do good, evil is thrust upon him.

CHAPTER III.

A DREARY NIGHT IN THE WOODS--CRITICAL SITUATION THE NEXT DAY.

Almost immediately on entering the wood, I not only found myself embosomed
in the darkness of the night, but I also found myself entangled in a thick
forest of undergrowth, which had been quite thoroughly wetted by the
afternoon rain.

I penetrated through the wood, thick and thin, and more or less wet, to
the distance I should think of three miles. By this time my clothes were
all thoroughly soaked through, and I felt once more a gloom and
wretchedness; the recollection of which makes me shudder at this distant
day. My young friends in this highly favoured Christian country,
surrounded with all the comforts of home and parental care, visited by
pastors and Sabbath-school teachers, think of the dreary condition of the
blacksmith boy in the dark wood that night; and then consider that
thousands of his brethren have had to undergo much greater hardships in
their flight from slavery.

I was now out of the hands of those who had so cruelly teased me during
the day; but a number of fearful thoughts rushed into my mind to alarm me.
It was dark and cloudy, so that I could not see the _north star_. How do I
know what ravenous beasts are in this wood? How do I know what precipices
may be within its bounds? I cannot rest in this wood to-morrow, for it
will be searched by those men from whom I have escaped; but how shall I
regain the road? How shall I know when I am on the right road again?

These are some of the thoughts that filled my mind with gloom and alarm.

At a venture I struck an angle northward in search of the road. After
several hours of zigzag and laborious travel, dragging through briars,
thorns and running vines, I emerged from the wood and found myself wading
marshy ground and over ditches.

I can form no correct idea of the distance I travelled, but I came to a
road, I should think about three o'clock in the morning. It so happened
that I came out near where there was a fork in the road of three prongs.

Now arose a serious query--which is the right prong for me? I was reminded
by the circumst