feet, or seated in a cart, with her eyes fixed vacantly on the road before her,
never thinking or caring whither it tends, till hunger comes and makes her desire
that a village may be near.
What will be the end, the end of her objectless wandering, apart from all love,
caring for human beings only through her pride, clinging to life only as the hunted
wounded brute clings to it?
God preserve you and me from being the beginners of such miserty!