"The lightning has burned out my eyes, and I can see nothing--I
cannot help myself--I cannot walk about--I cannot do anything, and I
suppose you will leave me here to die like a dog."

"Can't you see me?"

"No, all is dark, dark as night, and will be as long as I live." And
he turned on his bed-place and groaned. "I had hope, I lived in hope
--it has kept me alive for many weary years, but now hope is gone, and
I care not if I die to-morrow."

And then he started up and turned his face towards me, and I saw
that there was no light in his eyes.

"Bring me some more water, do you hear?" said he, angrily. "Be
quick, or I'll make you."

But I now fully comprehended his condition, and how powerless he
was. My feelings, as I have before said, were anything but cordial
towards him, and this renewed violence and threatening manner had its
effect. I was now, I suppose, about twelve or thirteen years old--
strong and active. I had more than once felt inclined to rebel, and
measure my strength against his. Irritated, therefore, at his angry
language, I replied--

"Go for the water yourself."

"Ah!" sighed he, after a pause of some seconds, "that I might have
expected. But let me once get you into my hands, I'll make you
remember it."