compelled her to leave the cave in search of sustenance—the hollow of her hand served her as a cup to moisten her parched lips at a neighbouring rill—she plucked some blackberries and acorns, instinctively swallowed them, and carried an apron full home, more by natural impulse than by any regard for her existence; death to her would have been a blessing. Hoping for an early release from her troubles she, on the eve of the sixth day, fell asleep, and awoke the following morning in the same splendid apartment into which she had been led on the bridal night, finding every thing in the same order as before. The handsomest and most loving of husbands was by her side, representing in moving and eloquent language his sympathy for the deplorable state to which his irresistible love had reduced her, beseeching her pardon with tears in his eyes. He explained the nature of the enchantment, and how its influence ceased every seventh day, and gave to all their natural form. Wulfield was moved by the tenderness and eloquence of her husband, who had convinced her that a matrimonial state in which one day out of seven is cloudless and happy, may be considered as very tolerable, for only the best assorted marriages can glory in such a blessing;—in short, she became
