( 188 )
and sweating under a timber carriage, the wheels of which were sunk tip to the axle in sand, I only considered their hapless lot, and the remembrance of of their vices was for a moment absorbed in the greatness of their punishment; I exclaimed with enthusiasm,
'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume,
And we are weeds without it.
When, on the other hand, I viewed the lively appearance of the camp, the employments of the women, and the ridiculous dilemmas into which they were every moment thrown by the novelty of their situations, I smiled, and inwardly admiring the pliability of mind, which enables us to accommodate ourselves to the vicissitudes of fortune, confessed that the pride of independence, and the
