ied
on for a long time past, I have before me a thrilling description from
the pen of Mr. Robert Lemke, a German writer, who has visited the
various penal establishments of Russia, with an official legitimation.
He had been to Tobolsk; after which he had to make a long, dreary
journey in a wretched car, until a high mountain arose before him. In
its torn and craggy flank the mountain showed a colossal opening similar
to the mouth of a burnt-out crater. Fetid vapours, which almost took
away his breath, ascended from it.

Pressing the handkerchief upon his lips, Mr. Lemke entered the opening
of the rock, when he found a large watch-house, with a picket of
Cossacks. Having shown his papers of legitimation, he was conducted by a
guide through a long, very dark, and narrow corridor, which, judging
from its sloping descent, led down into some unknown depth. In spite of
his good fur, the visitor felt extremely cold. After a walk of some ten
minutes through the dense obscurity, the ground becoming more and more
soft, a vague shimmer of light became observable. "We are in the mine!"
said the guide, pointing with a significant gesture to the high iron
cross-bars which closed the cavern before them.

The massive bars were covered with a thick rust. A watchman appeared,
who unlocked the heavy iron gate. Entering a room of considerable
extent, but which was scarcely a man's height, and which was dimly lit
by an oil-lamp, the visitor asked, "Where are we?" "In the sleeping-room
of the condemned! Formerly it was a productive gallery of the mine; now
it serves as a shelter."

The visitor shuddered. This subterranean sepulchre, lit by neither sun,
nor moon, was called a sleeping-room. Alcove-like cells were hewn into
the rock; here, on a couch of damp, half-rotten straw, covered with a
sackcloth, the unfortunate sufferers were to repose from the day's work.
Over each cell a cramp-iron was fixed, wherewith to lock-up the
prisoners like ferocious dogs. No door, no window anywhere.

Conducted through another passage, where a few lanterns were placed, and
whose end was also barred by an iron gate, Mr. Lemke came to a large
vault, partly lit. This was the mine. A deafening noise of pickaxes and
hammers. There he saw some hundreds of wretched figures, with shaggy
beards, sickly faces, reddened eyelids; clad in tatters, some of them
barefoot, others in sandals, fettered with heavy foot-chains. No song,
no whistling. Now and then they shyly