a4 Narrative of late wilderness, I know not whither. It is not my tongue or pen can express the sorrows of my heart, and bitterness of ' my spirit, that I had at this depar- ture : But God was with me in a won- derful manner, carrying me along and bearing up my spirit, that it did not quite fail. One of the Indians carried my poor wounded babe upon a horse ; it went moaning all along, " I shall die, I shall die." I went on foot after it, with sorrow that cannot be exprest. At length I took it off the horse, and car- ried it in my arms till my strength failed, and I fell down with it. Then they set me upon a horse, with my wounded child in my lap, and there being no furniture upon the horse's back, as we were going down a steep hill, we both fell over the horse's head, at which they like inhuman creatures laughed, and re- joiced to see it, though I thought we should there have ended our days, over-
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