Suddenly she heard a welcome sound, the gurgling of some spring or stream of water. Following the sound, she came to a rock, from a fissure in which trickled a small, clear fountain. She hastily made a scoop of her hand, and caught and quaffed the precious liquid eagerly. And when she had quenched her feverish thirst, she bathed her face and hands, and dried them with her handkerchief, which she found safe in her pocket. While she was so employed she heard a sudden rush and whirr of wings, and looking up, she saw that a large flock of strange birds, of beautiful plumage, had made a descent and settled among the branches of the trees over her head. She watched them for a little while, and then passed out of the thicket, up upon a sort of tableland that occupied the center between the two shores of this long peninsula, as she supposed it to be. She walked on she knew not, cared not whither. Her burning thirst sated, and that physical suffering allayed, she again experienced heavy mental trouble. She walked on in a purposeless way, until, happening to glance downward she saw before her a strange looking little animal, in size and shape not unlike our young native pig. But on being observed, it started and scampered away. She went on and crossed the elevated plain and came to another thicket and passed through it and came out upon the sea coast again. And here she sat down in the collapse of despair. “It is only to wander here until I shall be massacred by the savage natives, or destroyed by scarcely more savage beasts of prey, or else until I drag out a miserable remnant of existence, and perish slowly of famine and exposure, or of sorrow and despair, more terrible than physical suffering! How long will my strength hold out to live and suffer? Not long, I hope and pray, since it would be to no perceptible good end! Ah, well, it cannot last forever! ‘Time and the hours wear out the weariest day!’ This is a dreary season; but this also will pass away. Time is but a small portion of eternity, and flesh but a transient condition of the spirit; I am an immortal spirit, living in eternity, and I cannot die or be lost; and sometime—somewhere—I shall meet him! Let me think of that and be strong!” While thus she reasoned herself out of her despondency and nerved herself to endure the horror and desolation of her condition—a horror and desolation not even to be imagined by any one who has only known misery in the midst of their own kind, in the reach of human sympathy—she suddenly heard a cry—a sharp, wild, piercing cry, between a howl and a shriek and a wail—a cry of anguish and defiance and ferocity! She started and listened. It was repeated again, wilder, higher, fiercer than before. She hoped—she truly did—that it came from some rapacious beast of prey, mad with hunger, which would set upon her and make short work of her and of the “dreary season” she dreaded so much. It was reiterated in almost human tones.