At length there appeared before him something green. It looked like the foliage of trees. It rose above the black land and the charred stumps of the burnt district, and seemed to be some place which the fire had not reached. Was it some green oasis in this desert of devastation, or was it some new forest as boundless, as uninhabited, and as desolate as the one in which he had been lost? At that moment it mattered not to him what it was, so long as it was some place that was free from the touch of fire. Onward he drifted, and the stream took a turn, and swept forward. Here the green foliage appeared full before him. It was of no great extent. Beyond it there was no vast forest, but only the sky. It seemed as though in one place there might be a broad plain, so low did it lie, and so open was it, and bare of trees. This place he watched with the most eager scrutiny. To this he came nearer and nearer. The space broadened every moment, until at last he thought that it must indeed be a wide plain--if plain it was. Nearer he drew and nearer. Then, at length, a suspicion came to his mind that startled him greatly. Nearer he came, and nearer, and the suspicion changed to reality, for there, full before him, lay nothing less than the sea! The sea! Yes, the sea! The river ran into a harbor. The harbor opened out into the sea. It was not a bay. It was the sea, with the distant horizon touching the sky. Before he had reached the green spot, he came to a place where a bridge had been, and of which nothing now remained but some charred timbers. This showed him that he could not be very far from human habitations. A little below this he reached the green spot, and, landing here, he loosened his clothes from the log, and dressed himself. They were wet; but his watch was still ticking bravely, and marked three o’clock. His matches were also dry, and a piece of trout left from his morning’s repast was still there unharmed. This he ate with an eager appetite. He spread out his wet coat upon the grass, and lay down by it, and, while resting, deliberated about what he ought next to do. Where he was he had not the faintest idea. He could not be on the Bay de Chaleur, for then the opposite shore would be visible; but here there was no shore opposite. He thought that it must be the Gulf of St. Lawrence. If so, then that bridge must belong to the road that ran along the shore, and settlements could not be very far away. He was now too impatient to rest any longer, and was so eager to find out where the road led to, that he took his half-dried coat over his arm, and started off towards the burnt bridge. The road here seemed to be pretty well travelled, and the sight of this stimulated still more his desire of reaching some house; so he at once set off.