Make mountains level, and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea! and other times to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean
Too wide for Neptune’s hips.—Shakspeare.
Clearly broke the morning through the grated windows of the lock-up house. The beams of the rising sun slanting through the bars, shown upon the wretched inmates, some extended along the benches, some squatted upon the floor but all in a heavy sleep.
Eudora, lying covered up carefully in her remote corner of the room, out of the direct rays of the sun, also continued to sleep soundly.
An hour or two passed without anything disturbing the quiet of the prison, until at length the falling of the bars, opening of the door, and entrance of the policemen, awoke the sleepers, who commenced an unanimous clamor for food, for drink, and above all, for release.
Roused by the noise, Eudora started up and gazed wildly around, not comprehending her situation; but soon memory, with all its terrors, awoke, and nearly turned her into stone. She gazed upon her manacled hands, her prison walls, and her wretched companions, and her blood nearly froze in her veins.
The policemen had come to take the other women and the children before the magistrate. The three females who had befriended her the night before now came to her to reclaim their shawls, and with many kind wishes, took leave.