Chapter 25 No.25

'Tis a weary life this-

Vaults overhead, and grates and bars around me,

And my sad hours spent with as sad companions,

Whose thoughts are brooding: o'er their own mischances,

Far, far too deeply to take part in mine.

THE WOODSMAN.

The course of life to which Mary and her little retinue were doomed, was in the last degree secluded