On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. He certainly bore inspection. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter's earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment. Glorious! The Pastoral. ' He muttered it continually. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself.
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