. Hans of Iceland . the rustof a gaol corrodes the heart, and eats into every thing;time cannot efface its mark, nor the brightest sun callforth one gleam from where its dimness has once affixeditself As it mars lovely womans charms, so it renders dis-gustful the venerableness of age. From the song of the 224 PREFACE. young girl we trace its earlier mildew; from the powerfulpaper narrating the history of the old convict (which is byfar the most stirring and full of adventure of the whole,see pages 268 to 272) we learn its baleful effects on old a beneficent, rationally-grounded clemenc
. Hans of Iceland . the rustof a gaol corrodes the heart, and eats into every thing;time cannot efface its mark, nor the brightest sun callforth one gleam from where its dimness has once affixeditself As it mars lovely womans charms, so it renders dis-gustful the venerableness of age. From the song of the 224 PREFACE. young girl we trace its earlier mildew; from the powerfulpaper narrating the history of the old convict (which is byfar the most stirring and full of adventure of the whole,see pages 268 to 272) we learn its baleful effects on old a beneficent, rationally-grounded clemency be, infuture, the means of redeeming all such as have erred;and may a widely-spread system of enlightened educationhappily train the children of adverse circumstances inthe way they should go. P. Hesketh Fleetwood. vu ^iUAjjiu fiiUJT—.cjin .-(1 ju .H bSfiDJH Condemned to Death. Etched by R. de los Rios. — From drawing byFrancois Flameng^. W3|I ii,f^f ,!;!.i-. I . I,. THE LAST DAY OF A CONDEMNED. FIRST PAPER. BicftTRE Prison. CONDEMNED to death!These five weeks have I dwelt with this idea,—always alone with it, always frozen by its presence,always bent under its weight. Formerly (for it seems to me rather years thanweeks since I was free) I was a being like any other;every day, every hour, every minute had its idea. Mymind, youthful and rich, was full of fancies, which itdeveloped successively, without order or aim, but weavinginexhaustible arabesques on the poor and coarse web oflife. Sometimes it was of youthful beauties, sometimesof unbounded possessions, then of battles gained,next of theatres full of sound and light, and then againthe young beauties, and shadowy walks at night beneathspreading chestnut-trees. There was a perpetual revel inmy imagination: I might think on what I chose, — I was free. rot. X. —16 226 THE LAST DAT But now, — I am a Captive! Bodily in irons in adungeon, and mentally imprisoned in one ide
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