of joy, and her heart almost
bursting with the throbbings of delight, in the anticipation of again
pressing her idolized child to her bosom. Her hand was upon the door
latch--she had not yet passed the threshold--when two men, who had
watched at the door of her dwelling, again seized her in the name of
the law. In spite of her tears and supplications, they conveyed her to
the prison of St. Pelagie. This loathsome receptacle of crime was
filled with the abandoned females who had been swept, in impurity and
degradation, from the streets of Paris. It was, apparently, a studied
humiliation, to compel their victim to associate with beings from whom
her soul shrunk with loathing. She had resigned herself to die, but
not to the society of infamy and pollution.

The Jacobins, conscious of the illegality of her first arrest, and
dreading her power, were anxious to secure her upon a more legal
footing. They adopted, therefore, this measure of liberating her and
arresting her a second time. Even her firm and resigned spirit was for
a moment vanquished by this cruel blow. Her blissful dream of
happiness was so instantaneously converted into the blackness of
despair, that she buried her face in her hands, and, in the anguish of
a bruised and broken heart, wept aloud. The struggle, though short,
was very violent ere she regained her wonted composure. She soon,
however, won the compassionate sympathy of her jailers, and was
removed from this degrading companionship to a narrow cell, where she
could enjoy the luxury of being alone. An humble bed was spread for
her in one corner, and a small table was placed near the few rays of
light which stole feebly in through the iron grating of the
inaccessible window. Summoning all her fortitude to her aid, she
again resumed her usual occupations, allotting to each hour of the day
its regular employment. She engaged vigorously in the study of the
English language, and passed some hours every day in drawing, of which
accomplishment she was very fond. She had no patterns to copy; but her
imagination wandered through the green fields and by the murmuring
brooks of her rural home. Now she roved with free footsteps through
the vineyards which sprang up beneath her creative pencil. Now she
floated upon the placid lake, reclining upon the bosom of her husband
and caressing her child, beneath the tranquil sublimity of the evening
sky. Again she sat down at the humble fireside of the peasant,
ministerin