over, preposterously waddling on his hind Iegs;
or, if you happened to view him in another way,
he seemed wholly a man, and all the more mon-
strous for being so. And there he was, the
wretched thing, with no society, no companion,
no kind of a mate, living only to do mischief,
and incapable of knowing what affection means.
Theseus hated him, and shuddered at him, and
yet could not but be sensible of some sort of
pity; and all the more, the uglier and more de-
testable the creature was. For he kept striding
to and fro, in a solitary frenzy of rage, continu-
ally emitting a hoarse roar, which was oddly
mixed up with half-shaped words; and, after
listening a while, Theseus understood that the
Minotaur was saying to himself how miserable
he was, and how hungry, and how he hated
every body, and how he longed to eat up the
human race alive.

Ah, the bull-headed villain! And O, my good
little people, you will perhaps see, one of these
days, as I do new, that every human being who
suffers any thing evil to get into his nature, or
to remain there, is a kind of Minotaur, an ene-
my of his fellow-creatures, and separated from

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v?