completely excluded from every possibility ol
making their wishes known. Nevertheless, letters
accumulated to a vast number, and when Mr.
Röckel, after having himself tried this way of
communicating with the prison authorities,
asked, after a lapse of three months, what had
become of his application, he received the
answer that the letter-boxes had not yet been
opened! Finally, the whole of the boxes were
put out of the way without being opened at all.

Mr. Röckel had repeatedly endeavoured to
obtain some alleviation of the silent system as
applied to political prisoners, and in 1856
permission was received from the minister that they
might, at their particular request, be allowed
some conversation in the presence of one of the
higher officials; but this order, which was
communicated to the prisoners, had apparently been
accompanied by an injunction never to let it
take effect, for, in spite of Mr. Röckel's urgent
requests for an interview with a certain friend
of his, whom he wished to consult on a literary
work of his own, this opportunity was persistently
denied him. He was therefore greatly
delighted when, one day on the way to church,
a political fellow-prisoner secretly put a small
packet in his hand, in which, upon opening
it in his cell, he found a pencil, a pen, some
paper, and some ink-powder, besides a few lines
explaining a well-devised plan of correspondence
between the friends, to whom every other
exchange of thought was denied. For some
months their clandestine communications
remained undiscovered, but supposed safety made
them incautious. One of the keepers one night
crept along the passage in his stockings, and
overheard the conversation of the occupants
of two neighbouring cells, in which they
mentioned the correspondence, and the names of
some that took part in it. He reported what he
had heard to the governor, and that same night
all the cells and prisoners were thoroughly
searched. The affair was turned into a serious
misdemeanor against the state, and Mr. Röckel
and others were condemned to four weeks' sick
diet of the third class, accompanied by the "log."

A second punishment he received for
incautiously speaking to a sentinel, who, seeing
him stand still in his walk, ordered him to move
on. Mr. Röckel's reply, "But I am not in your
way!" had been overheard by one of the
keepers, who reported him for speaking; whereupon
Mr. Heink condemned him to a week's
"dark arrest" and deprivation of supper for
four weeks, as well as of the so-called "extra
victuals" for several months.

In March, 1859, Minister von Behr paid a
visit to the prison, and the prisoners were
ordered to appear before him and "state their
wishes." They of course knew what this meant,
but Mr. Röckel sent his compliments and thanks,
and informed the minister that he had no wishes.
The others received permission to address a
petition for pardon to the king, and were
gradually one after the other liberated. Mr.
Röckel remained behind as the only "Prisoner
of the May days." But in 1861 the affairs and
urgent prayers of his family induced him to
address a letter to the king, asking, not for
pardon, but for liberation for the sake of his
family. The tone of his application offended the
king, who therefore refused, but, in consideration
of a petition from Mr. Röckel's wife, granted him
permission to emigrate to America.

This the prisoner positively refused to do, and
only accepted his freedom when the governor of
the prison, as well as the attorney and other
superior officers, assured him that the condition
was a mere form, and that no promise was
expected from him which would force him to leave
the country. He therefore occupied himself
with the preparations for his departure, and in
the evening had a last interview with the
governor, who implored him not to expose his
conduct. This he would not and did not
promise. Next morning, before sunrise, he had left
the walls within the precincts of which he had
been a prisoner for close upon thirteen years.
The book under our notice is the first step he
takes to call public attention to the abuses of
which he was one of the victims.

THE LAMENT OF KEPHALOS.

1.

HASTE, Father Helios, haste!
Finish my days disgraced,
Emptied, and meaningless.
Quench, with thine unloved light,
My longing, and let Night
Make a great darkness of my deep distress!
Sandal thy feet with fire
Fed from my fierce desire,
And in the redden'd inmost of the West
(Like stems of broken flowers)
Burn up these blemisht hours
Whose roots are eaten from them by the canker in
the breast.
Ah me, that I might rest
From this heart-eating grief
That feeds what it devours;
Annull'd, abolisht quite, and dispossest
Of being, like a last year's fallen leaf,
Lost to sunbeams and showers
Among forgotten bowers!

2.

The morn to me is dewless,
And like a sick man's waking
Out of weary dreams.
I seek a form long viewless
Which evermore is making,
Among the woods and streams,
A sound that doth my inmost heart
Sunder, as with a rankling dart,
And evermore the sullen smart
Sorer and sorer seems.
My days are sick with sunlight
That hath no sweetness in it;
The pulsing pang of one light
That, every maddening minute,
Flashes and fades again,
Flashes and fades in vain,
About the dizzy brain,
Urges the wandering pain
Of love's most wild endeavour