He fainted--he had like to have died; but as for prayer--he only muttered curses on this bitter, famishing disappointment. He dared not strike into the wood again--he dared not advance upon that yellow sea exhausted and unprovisioned: it was his wisdom to skirt the wood; and so he trampled along weakly--weakly. This liberty to starve is horrible! Is it, John Dillaway? What, have you no compunctions at that word starve? no bitter, dreadful recollections? Remember poor Maria, that own most loving sister, wanting bread through you. Remember Henry Clements, and their pining babe; remember your own sensual feastings and fraudulent exultation, and how you would utterly have starved the good, the kind, the honest! This same bitter cup is filled for your own lips, and you must drink it to the dregs. Have you no compunctions, man? nothing tapping at your heart? for you must _starve_! No! not yet--not yet! for chance (what Dillaway lyingly called chance)--in his moments of remorse at these reflections, when God had hoped him penitent at last, and, if he still continued so, might save him--sent help in the desert! For, as he reelingly trampled along on the rank herbage between this forest and that sea of sand, just as he was dying of exhaustion, his faint foot trod upon a store of life and health! It was an Emeu's ill-protected nest; and he crushed, where he had trodden, one of those invigorating eggs. Oh, joy--joy--no thanks--but sensual joy! There were three of them, and each one meat for a day; ash-coloured without, but the within--the within--full of sweet and precious yolk! Oh, rich feast, luscious and refreshing: cheer up--cheer up: keep one to cross the desert with: ay--ay, luck will come at last to clever Jack! how shrewd it was of me to find those eggs! Thus do the wicked forget thee, blessed God! thou hast watched this bad man day by day, and all the dark nights through, in tender expectation of some good: Thou hast been with him hourly in that famishing forest, tempting him by starvation to--repentance; and how gladly did Thine eager mercy seize this first opportunity of half-formed penitence to bless and help him--even him, liberally and unasked! Thanks to Thee--thanks to Thee! Why did not that man thank Thee? Who more grieved at his thanklessness than Thou art? Who more sorry for the righteous and necessary doom which the impenitence of heartlessness drags down upon itself? And Providence was yet more kind, and man yet more ungrateful; mercy abounding over the abundant sin. For the famished vagrant diligently sought about for more rich prizes; and, as the manner is of those unnatural birds to leave their eggs carelessly to the hatching of the sunshine, he soon stumbled on another nest. "Ha--ha!" said he, "clever Jack Dillaway of Broker's alley isn't done up yet: no--no, trust him for taking care of number one; now then for the desert; with these four huge eggs and my trusty hatchet, deuce take it, but I'll manage somehow!"