chest, containing some half mouldered biscuit, awakened an appetite, which

perhaps existed before, but of which, until now, I was not aware. Thirst

also, violent and parching, the result of the sea-water I had drank, and of

the exhaustion of my frame, tormented me. Kind nature had gifted the supply

of these wants with pleasurable sensations, so that I--even I!--was

refreshed and calmed, as I ate of this sorry fare, and drank a little of

the sour wine which half filled a flask left in this abandoned dwelling.

Then I stretched myself on the bed, not to be disdained by the victim of

shipwreck. The earthy smell of the dried leaves was balm to my sense after

the hateful odour of sea-weed. I forgot my state of loneliness. I neither

looked backward nor forward; my senses were hushed to repose; I fell asleep

and dreamed of all dear inland scenes, of hay-makers, of the shepherd's

whistle to his dog, when he demanded his help to drive the flock to fold;

of sights and sounds peculiar to my boyhood's mountain life, which I had

long forgotten.

I awoke in a painful agony--for I fancied that ocean, breaking its

bounds, carried away the fixed continent and deep rooted mountains,

together with the streams I loved, the woods, and the flocks--it raged

around, with that continued and dreadful roar which had accompanied the

last wreck of surviving humanity. As my waking sense returned, the bare

walls of the guard room closed round me, and the rain pattered against the

single window. How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of slumber,

and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one's own hapless heart

-to return from the land of deceptive dreams, to the heavy knowledge of

unchanged disaster!--Thus was it with me, now, and for ever! The sting of

The Last Man