The castle and town of Versailles afforded our numbers ample accommodation, and foraging parties took it by turns to supply our wants.  There was a strange and appalling motley in the situation of these the last of the race.  At first I likened it to a colony, which borne over the far seas, struck root for the first time in a new country.  But where was the bustle and industry characteristic of such an assemblage; the rudely constructed dwelling, which was to suffice till a more commodious mansion could be built; the marking out of fields; the attempt at cultivation; the eager curiosity to discover unknown animals and herbs; the excursions for the sake of exploring the country?  Our habitations were palaces our food was ready stored in granaries—­there was no need of labour, no inquisitiveness, no restless desire to get on.  If we had been assured that we should secure the lives of our present numbers, there would have been more vivacity and hope in our councils.  We should have discussed as to the period when the existing produce for man’s sustenance would no longer suffice for us, and what mode of life we should then adopt.  We should have considered more carefully our future plans, and debated concerning the spot where we should in future dwell.  But summer and the plague were near, and we dared not look forward.  Every heart sickened at the thought of amusement; if the younger part of our community were ever impelled, by youthful and untamed hilarity, to enter on any dance or song, to cheer the melancholy time, they would suddenly break off, checked by a mournful look or agonizing sigh from any one among them, who was prevented by sorrows and losses from mingling in the festivity.  If laughter echoed under our roof, yet the heart was vacant of joy; and, when ever it chanced that I witnessed such attempts at pastime, they encreased instead of diminishing my sense of woe.  In the midst of the pleasure-hunting throng, I would close my eyes, and see before me the obscure cavern, where was garnered the mortality of Idris, and the dead lay around, mouldering in hushed repose.  When I again became aware of the present hour, softest melody of Lydian flute, or harmonious maze of graceful dance, was but as the demoniac chorus in the Wolf’s Glen, and the caperings of the reptiles that surrounded the magic circle.

My dearest interval of peace occurred, when, released from the obligation of associating with the crowd, I could repose in the dear home where my children lived.  Children I say, for the tenderest emotions of paternity bound me to Clara.  She was now fourteen; sorrow, and deep insight into the scenes around her, calmed the restless spirit of girlhood; while the remembrance of her father whom she idolized, and respect for me and Adrian, implanted an high sense of duty in her young heart.  Though serious she was not sad; the eager desire that makes us all, when young, plume our wings, and stretch our necks, that we may more swiftly alight tiptoe on the height of maturity,