rt."

"That will occupy three days. Go without a vise. Be here at seven
o'clock, and wait for me."

Both were to their time. The sailor said, "Give me some money," and
handed him a yellow paper; the clock struck; the barrier was opened,
and, like a dream, he was safely on the ocean.

From Riga he went through Courland and Lithuania. The difficulty of
crossing the Russian frontier into Prussia was still to be managed. He
chose the daytime; and when sentinels had each turned their backs, he
jumped over the wall of the first of the three glacis. No noise was
heard. The second was tried, and the firing of pistols showed that he
was perceived. He rushed on to the third, and, breathless and
exhausted, gained a little wood, where for many hours he remained
concealed. He was in Prussia. Wandering on through Mernel, Tilsit, and
Konigsberg, he decided at the last place to take a ship the next
morning to Elbing, where he would be near to Posen, and among his
compatriots. Sitting down on a heap of stones, he intended taking
refuge for the night in a corn-field; but sleep overcame him, and he
was rudely awakened in the darkness by a policeman. His stammering and
confused replies awakened suspicion, and to his shame and grief, he
was carried off to prison. He announced himself as a French
cotton-spinner, but returning from Russia, and without a passport. Not
a word he said was believed. At length, after a month's detention,
weary of being considered a concealed malefactor, he asked to speak to
M. Fleury, a French advocate, who assisted at his trial. To him he
confessed the whole truth. Nothing could equal his advocate's
consternation and astonishment.

"What a misfortune!" he said. "We must give you up to the Russians;
they have just sent many of your countrymen, across the frontier.
There is but one way. Write to Count Eulenberg; tell your story, and
trust to his mercy."

After ten days he received a vague reply, desiring him to have
patience. The affair got wind in the town, and a gentleman came to
him, asking if he would accept him as bail. Efforts had been made in
his favor, and the police were ready to set him free. M. Kamke, his
kind friend, took him home, and entertained him for a week; but an
order came from Berlin to send the prisoner back to Russia, and he
received warning in time to escape. Letters to various friends on the
way were given him, to facilitate his journey; and just four years
after he had left Paris he