passage or return to the Yellowstone, I experienced one of those
strange hallucinations which many of my friends have misnamed
insanity, but which to me was Providence. An old clerical friend, for
whose character and counsel I had always cherished peculiar regard, in
some unaccountable manner seemed to be standing before me, charged
with advice which would relieve my perplexity. I seemed to hear him
say, as if in a voice and with the manner of authority:

"Go back immediately, as rapidly as your strength will permit. There
is no food here, and the idea of scaling these rocks is madness."

"Doctor," I rejoined, "the distance is too great. I cannot live to
travel it."

"Say not so. Your life depends upon the effort. Return at once. Start
now, lest your resolution falter. Travel as fast and as far as
possible--it is your only chance."

"Doctor, I am rejoiced to meet you in this hour of distress, but doubt
the wisdom of your counsel. I am within seventy miles of Virginia.
Just over these rocks, a few miles away, I shall find friends. My
shoes are nearly worn out, my clothes are in tatters, and my strength
is almost overcome. As a last trial, it seems to me I can but attempt
to scale this mountain or perish in the effort, if God so wills."

"Don't think of it. Your power of endurance will carry you through. I
will accompany you. Put your trust in Heaven. Help yourself and God
will help you."

[Illustrations: The Ghostly Counsellor.]

Overcome by these and other persuasions, and delighted with the idea
of having a traveling companion, I plodded my way over the route I had
come, intending at a certain point to change it so as to strike the
river at the foot of the lake. Stopping after a few miles of travel, I
had no difficulty in procuring fire, and passed a comfortable night.
When I resumed my journey the next day the sun was just rising.
Whenever I was disposed, as was often the case, to question the wisdom
of the change of routes, my old friend appeared to be near with words
of encouragement, but his reticence on other subjects both surprised
and annoyed me. I was impressed at times, during the entire journey
with the belief that my return was a fatal error, and if my
deliverance had failed should have perished with that conviction.
Early this day I deflected from my old route and took my course for
the foot of the lake, with the hope, by constant travel, to reach it
the next day. The distance was greater than I a