We Started, My Uncouth Guide Sitting Tailor-Fashion On The Sumpter
Mule Upon The Baggage.
The moon had just gone down, and the
morning was pitchy dark, and, as usual, piercingly cold.
He soon
entered the dismal wood, which I had already traversed, and through
which we wended our way for some time, slowly and mournfully. Not
a sound was to be heard save the trampling of the animals, not a
breath of air moved the leafless branches, no animal stirred in the
thickets, no bird, not even the owl, flew over our heads, all
seemed desolate and dead, and during my many and far wanderings, I
never experienced a greater sensation of loneliness, and a greater
desire for conversation and an exchange of ideas than then. To
speak to the idiot was useless, for though competent to show the
road, with which he was well acquainted, he had no other answer
than an uncouth laugh to any question put to him. Thus situated,
like many other persons when human comfort is not at hand, I turned
my heart to God, and began to commune with Him, the result of which
was that my mind soon became quieted and comforted.
We passed on our way uninterrupted; no thieves showed themselves,
nor indeed did we see a single individual until we arrived at
Pegoens, and from thence to Vendas Novas our fortune was the same.
I was welcomed with great kindness by the people of the hostelry of
the latter place, who were well acquainted with me on account of my
having twice passed the night under their roof.
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