we drove away, I observed, 'I have a doughnut in my pocket; the first
one hungry shall have it.'

The curtains were now buttoned closely down for the first time, and we
were in total darkness. We rode in silence for some time, each
resolutely trying to go to sleep. The Frenchman succeeded best. He had
served as a soldier on the Continent, and was evidently accustomed to
hardship. He slept as soundly as though he were on a down bed, instead
of riding backward in a stage coach.

Again insensibility threatened me. I could not speak, but my labored
breathing aroused my companions just in time to save me from entire
unconsciousness. The faithful Scotchman had raised the curtain, and the
air rushed in freshly upon me. It was very chilly, and much colder than
it had been. It had ceased snowing, and the moon was shining feebly
through the breaking clouds. We were going at a goodly rate of speed. By
and by I thought of my doughnut, and inquired who was hungry. The
Scotchman was not; the Englishman was not; the Frenchman still slept.

'Give it to me, if you please,' said the Englishman, a sudden idea
seeming to strike him.

'Here,' said he, making a thrust at the Frenchman; 'wake up! here's a
doughnut for you.' The old soldier muttered something drowsily. He was
not hungry. 'Won't you take it for the lady?' said the former, with a
dash of sentiment.

'I only eat for the satisfacti-on of mine appetit!' he exclaimed,
sulkily, settling himself back again to sleep.

The night wore on, interrupted only by frequent stoppages, when the
driver dismounted to apply the 'drags' in going down the hills. Before
this, we had seemed to be going up all the hills; now there seemed to be
a continual descent.

I was too weary to sleep. Let me change my position as I might, I could
not be comfortable. My mind was constantly busy, and, since outward
objects could no longer engage my attention, I could no longer escape my
thoughts. At one time I would think of my husband and my five little
ones at home, all sleeping quietly in their beds. I wondered if they had
all said their prayers to their father, and if he had tucked them all up
warmly. Then I would think of my mother. Was she expecting me? I
wondered. My poor mother! what a sad meeting that would be! And then my
dead father would come to mind. How sad, how strange it would seem, to
receive no warm greeting from him!

It was about two o'clock in the morning, when we stopped for our last