After running thus for several minutes, my oxen were, finally, brought to a stand, by a tree, against which they dashed {164} themselves with great violence, upsetting the cart, and entangling themselves among sundry young saplings.

By the shock, the body of the cart was flung in one direction, and the wheels and tongue in another, and all in the greatest confusion.

There I was, all alone, in a thick wood, to which I was a stranger; my cart upset and shattered; my oxen entangled, wild, and enraged; and I, poor soul! but a green hand, to set all this disorder right.

I knew no more of oxen than the ox driver is supposed to know of wisdom.

After standing a few moments surveying the damage and disorder, and not without a presentiment that this trouble would draw after it others, even more distressing, I took one end of the cart body, and, by an extra outlay of strength, I lifted it toward the axle-tree, from which it had been violently flung; and after much pulling and straining, I succeeded in getting the body of the cart in its place.