I preſſed him to take ſome food; but, inſtead of anſwering me, or turning away, he burſt into tears—a thing I had never ſeen him do before, and ſobbing, he ſaid, Will any one be kind to me!—you will kill me!—I ſaw not my wife die—No! they dragged me from her—but I ſaw Jacky and Nancy die—and who pitied me?—but my dog! He turned his eyes to the body—I wept with him. He would then have taken ſome nouriſhment, but nature was exhauſted—and he expired.
Was that the cave? ſaid Mary. They ran to it. Poor Robin! Did you ever hear of any thing ſo cruel? Yes, anſwered Mrs. Maſon; and as we walk home I will relate an inſtance of ſtill greater barbarity.
I told you, that Robin was confined in a jail. In France they have a dreadful one, called the Baſtille. The poor wretches who are confined in it live entirely alone; who have not the pleaſure of ſeeing men or animals; nor are they allowed books. They live in comfortleſs ſolitude. Some have amuſed themſelves by making figures
