We must not be too sanguine." The men set about unpacking the horses, and I in the mean time was paddled across the river.

The old woman immediately returned, leaving the younger one with me for company.

I seated myself on the fallen trunk of a tree, in the midst of the snow, and looked across the dark waters.
I am not ashamed to confess my weakness--for the first time on my journey I shed tears.

It was neither hunger, nor fear, nor cold, which extorted them from me.

It was the utter desolation of spirit, the sickness of heart which "hope deferred" ever occasions, and which of all evils is the hardest to bear.
The poor little squaw looked into my face with a wondering and sympathizing expression.