Half-starved, suffering oftentimes the keenest pangs of thirst, and believing that all this torture was the preface to something yet worse, it can well be imagined that we were indeed a sorry party.

This torture was an actual penance, like the sitting for years on top of a pillar, the wearing of a hair shirt, or fasting in Lent.

Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere, Self-torture is the lot of human-kind, With but one mortal happy, here and there Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say, But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed, Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day, And in the twilight wandered, sorely vexed?

"For that deep torture may be call'd an hell, When more is felt, than one hath power to tell.

There lies the sting, Mademoisellethe torture to be a captive: to feel one's best days slipping away, and fate still denying to us poor devils the chance which even the luckiestGod knowsfind little enough."

What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee, Thou sluggish idler, dilatory slave!

Tortures, tragedies of blood, and heinous crimes added piquancy to Mrs. Haywood's love stories, but were not the normal material of her romances.

But despair lent to the besieged a courage which was not the characteristic of their tribe, and knowing that, if taken alive, a lingering torture and cruel death would be their fate, they resolved to make good their defence at every hazard.

The tortures, which we incorrectly ascribe to the mental brutality of the judges of those times, were but a logical consequence of the contemporaneous theories.