od, and died for our
sakes, taught us that lesson, with many others, which we are too apt to
forget. Say, therefore, no more about it, my son, but lay thee down and
rest till thy strength has returned, and thou canst prosecute thy
journey with renewed hope and confidence.'

"I could not resist old Sidor's pressing, and, with a satisfaction I can
scarcely describe, I threw myself on his bed, and in an instant was
asleep. My sleep, however, was feverish and troubled. I had felt ill
before I reached his cottage, and now, when I awoke, I found a raging
fever on me. How long I had slept I know not. Old Sidor was by my
side. There he sat, day after day, and night after night, tending me
with as much care as a father would an only son. Several weeks I thus
lay, hovering between life and death. Oftentimes my old friend told me
that he was inclined to summon a leech to see me, but, if he did so, he
was afraid that I might be betrayed, and delivered into the hands of our
enemies. He besought, therefore, with much earnestness and prayer, the
great Physician of our souls, that He would, in His abundant mercy, heal
me. Surely such prayers are not in vain. In a short time the fever
left me, and my strength rapidly returned. I had been out of the hut
more than once to ramble through the woods, but was yet, I fancied,
unfit to prosecute my journey. I lay on the bed while Sidor sat by my
side reading that book which was seldom out of our hands--the Book of
Life, when we saw through the open doorway his little grandson running
in haste towards the hut. He entered too much out of breath to speak;
in his hand he bore a feather, which he held out towards me. I took it
in my hand; it was from the wing of a bird. I guessed in a moment what
it betokened--so did Sidor.

"`Our foes have discovered your retreat, and this is sent by a brother
to bid you flee.'

"The boy nodded, and waved his hand hurriedly towards the door. I threw
my arms for a moment on the neck of my old friend.

"`Keep straight on the way I showed you yesterday, till you come to a
tree scathed and blasted by lightning. To the right of it is a thicket;
on the farther side, midway down it, you will find some dried brambles;
remove them, and you will perceive a narrow passage. Half-way down it
the ground beneath your feet will sound hollow. On your right hand, by
bending aside the boughs, you will discover a further pile of brambles,
which appear to have b