Now, to lose your way in a forest reads rather romantic and entertaining than otherwise, but like shipwreck, or falling into the hands of Greek banditti, it is a much pleasanter thing on paper than in reality. A bed of moss, though very charming in the daytime, is not nearly so comfortable as a spring mattress, and is sure to be damp, and primeval oaks, majestic and beautiful as they are, do not keep out the draught. The worst room in the worst inn is preferable to a night's lodging in the grandest of forests. But, though he had never been in the Warden Forest before, the young man knew it would be midsummer madness to hope for an inn and was wandering along on the chance of coming across some woodman's hut, or by meeting a stray human being of whom he could inquire his way. He was tired--he had been walking since morning, and he was hungry and athirst, but he tramped on, and smoked and sang as carelessly as if he were strolling down the shady side of Pall Mall. Slowly the sun set, and the glades, which had been dusky an hour ago, grew dark. The faint footpath grew still more indistinct, the undergrowth denser and more difficult for persons walking. The pedestrian fought on for some time, but at last, as he stumbled over one of the gnarled roots which a grand chestnut had thrust up through the ground, he stopped and, looking round, shook his head. "A regular babe in the wood, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "I shall have to make a night of it, I expect. Wonder whether the robins will be good enough to cover me over in the proper nursery-book style? Is it any good halloing, I wonder? I tried that an hour ago, much to the disgust of the live animals; and I don't think I can kick up a row at this time of night. Let's see how the 'bacca goes. Hem! about three--perhaps four pipes. I wish I had something to eat and drink; what a fool I was to leave that piece of steak at breakfast. Steak! I mustn't think of it--that way madness lies. Well, this looks about as sheltered a spot as I could find--I'll turn in. I wonder if anybody has, ever since the world began, hit upon a short cut? I never have, and hang me if I'll try it again. By George! the grass is wet already. Such a likely place for snakes--find my pocket full when I wake, no doubt." Then, with a laugh, he dropped down amongst the long brake; but the idea of going to bed in a forest, at the early hour of nine, was too much for him, and instead of composing himself to rheumatic slumber, he began to sing: "Oh, wake and call me early, mother, Call me early, mother, dear." Scarcely had he finished the line when there came through the darkness, as if in response, a short, sharp bark of a dog. The wanderer leapt to his feet as if something had bitten him, and after listening intently for a moment, exclaimed: "Another chance, by Jove!" and sent up a shout that, ringing through the stillness, echoed from tree to tree, and at last called forth the answering bark from the distant dog.