report to me." I was then given to understand
that I was not in custody, though an
agent of the police would "wait upon" me
pending further inquiries.

The agent of the police who accompanied
me to the hotel was more civil than his
superior; though he, too, must have been satisfied
that my intentions towards the Austrian
government were far from honourable; for
he gave me distinctly to understand, that,
if it had not been for the alliance between
Austria and England by virtue of the treaty
of the second of December, the courtesy (!)
which had been shown to me, would have
been withheld.

On arriving at the door of my apartment
I found it open, and two soldiers seated on
my sofa. They were in possession of my
baggage. I produced my keys, and handed them
to the officer who accompanied me. He first
opened my desk. The inspection of the
papers it contained would have afforded me
considerable amusement under any other
circumstances; but, as it was, I felt not a little
angry.

The first letter that he looked at and
examined, was a letter from a late Indian
Brigadier-General, the last epistle he ever
penned. It was dated Ramnugger, and was
posted just before the fatal charge in which
he fell. Over the superscription of this letter
were several words in Persian character,
signifying that "the postage had not been
paid in camp, and was payable on delivery."
There was also on the superscription, a few
words in Bengallee, written by the Baboo in
the Meerut Post-office. These words
signified my name and address, and were
intended as a guide to the native postman, who
could not read English. This letter was put
aside. The next document into which the
officer peered, was a letter from my mother,
and related entirely to family affairs. I now
became acquainted with the fact, that the
officer was able to read our language; for,
after he had got through the first page, he
remarked, "this is nothing," and handed me
the letter. A Grand Lodge manuscript
certificate now caught his eye, and he opened it
out. He was not a Freemason, and had
never seen a piece of parchment of the like
character. He asked me what it was; I told
him. Nevertheless, he put it aside with the
Brigadier's letter. The fourth document
that came to his hand was a letter from a
German gentleman, holding an office in the
Prussian Embassy in London. In that letter
he had facetiously alluded to my intended
visit to Vienna, and recommended me to take
care that they did not lock me up. No sooner
did I see the officer take that epistle in his
hand, than I felt it was all over with me, and
I dare say I turned pale. Albeit, I laughed
heartily, for the whole affair struck me as
something comical. My laughter, however,
was soon changed to gravity, when I beheld
the officer put back the papers into my desk
—lock it—and hand it to one of the soldiers,
and request me to "come along."

It was now nearly five o'clock, and I
suggested that I should like to dine. This
favour, however, was not accorded. My
levity had disgusted the authority charged
with the inspection of my papers. He was
now convinced that I was not only an
intriguer, but a reckless intriguer.

I had not called on the English ambassador,
because his lordship was seriously ill when I
arrived in Vienna; and his son was absent in
England. To no other members of the Corps
Diplomatique was I personally known. I
made up my mind not to trouble any of these
gentlemen; and resolved to undergo
imprisonment patiently, until the return (which
was daily expected) of the ambassador's son,
or his lordship's restoration to health.

I had read, of course, in the English papers
of the treatment experienced in eighteen-
hundred and fifty-two by the correspondent
of a morning journal; I was quite
prepared to suffer an infinity of hardships, such
as herding with felons—sleeping on bare
stones—feeding on black bread and water—
and having my rest disturbed by the shrieks
of prisoners undergoing the punishment of
Spiessruthen-laufen.

Perhaps a description of this punishment
may interest, as well as disgust, the general
reader. An avenue of soldiers is formed.
Each soldier holds in his hand a sort of knout
—peculiar to Austria, I believe. The knout
is formed of three leather straps, attached to a
wooden handle. At the end of each strap is
a bullet pierced with two spikes, crossways.
The prisoner passes through the avenue, and
each soldier gives him a blow. The length
of the avenue, and the number of times the
prisoner has to pass through it, is determined
by the character of the offence which has
been committed. Sometimes, death speedily
follows the infliction of the Speissruthen-
laufen. Some few years ago, several
Austrian soldiers in the garrison at Mayence
gave up the ghost during this diabolical
operation.

In justice to the Austrian authorities I am
bound to admit, that I had, in prison, an
apartment to myself; an apartment in which
there was a bed,—a hard bed to be sure, but
a comparatively clean bed. I was also
permitted to have, at my own cost, whatever
food I thought proper to order; and a bottle
of Hockheimer from the hotel. Nor was I
subjected to the slightest inconvenience in
respect to my toilet. This kindness that was
shown to me must have been the consequence
of the recent "alliance;" for even my attendant,
or keeper, more than once alluded to the
treaty of the second of December.

I had left my card with the commissioner of
the hotel, and had requested him to present it
to the son of the English ambassador on his
return from England; and inform him of the
place where I should always be found "at