CHAPTER XIV.

_The Author feels great joy at his deliverance, and proceeds through the
wilderness; but finds his situation very deplorable.--Suffers greatly
from thirst, and faints on the sand--Recovers, and makes another effort
to push forward.--Is providentially relieved by a fall of rain.--Arrives
at a Foulah village, where he is refused relief by the Dooty, but obtains
food from a poor woman.--Continues his journey through the wilderness,
and the next day lights on another Foulah village, where he is hospitably
received by one of the shepherds.--Arrives on the third day at a Negro
town called Wawra, tributary to the King of Bambarra._


It is impossible to describe the joy that arose in my mind, when I looked
around and concluded that I was out of danger. I felt like one recovered
from sickness; I breathed freer; I found unusual lightness in my limbs;
even the Desert looked pleasant; and I dreaded nothing so much as falling
in with some wandering parties of Moors, who might convey me back to the
land of thieves and murderers, from which I had just escaped.

I soon became sensible, however, that my situation was very deplorable;
for I had no means of procuring food, nor prospect of finding water.
About ten o'clock, perceiving a herd of goats feeding close to the road,
I took a circuitous route to avoid being seen; and continued travelling
through the wilderness, directing my course, by compass, nearly
east-south-east, in order to reach, as soon as possible, some town or