t is a summer evening; t me do a place called cross; ake me no fart possessed of anotime; I am alone. At t I discover t I forgot to take my parcel out of t of t for safety; t remains, t must remain; and noely destitute.

    cross is no to is but a stone pillar set up  a distance and in darkness. Four arms spring from its summit: t too o tion, distant ten miles; t, above ty. From toy I ed; a nortain: t moors beains far beyond t deep valley at my feet. tion  be tretc east, , norte, broad, lonely; t in to t a craveller migo see me norangers , evidently objectless and lost. I migioned: I could give no ans e suspicion. Not a tie o y at t—not a cures are—none t sa ture: I will seek  and ask repose.

    I struck straigo to a s dark gros turnings, and finding a moss-blackened granite crag in a  do.  me; tected my .

    Some time passed before I felt tranquil even  tle mig some sportsman or poac discover me. If a gust of  te, I looked up, fearing it led, I imagined it a man. Finding my appre reigned as evening declined at nigook confidence. As yet I  t; I ened, cy of reflection.

    o do? o go? Oolerable questions,  be measured by my rembling limbs before I could reacation— be entreated before I could get a lodging: reluctant sympatuned, almost certain repulse incurred, before my tale could be listened to, or one of my s relieved!

    I touc   of t t ar t above t ious softness; no breeze o me benign and good; I t scast as I e only mistrust, rejection, insult, clung