he had found his way back to the steamboat wharf; but the steamer was
gone. Alone in a strange place, and not knowing what to do, he told his
story to somebody whom he met, who put him in a hack and sent him up to
the jail. It was a pity he lacked the enterprise to take care of himself
when set at liberty, as it cost him four months' imprisonment and his
friends some money. I ought to have mentioned before that, on arriving
within the waters of the District, Sayres and myself had been examined
before a justice of the peace, who was one of the captors; and who had
acted as their leader. He had made out a commitment against us, but none
against English; so that the persons who had him in charge were right
enough in letting him go.

Sayres and myself were at first put into the same cell, but, towards
night, we were separated. A person named Goddard, connected with the
police, came to examine us. He went to Sayres first. He then came to me,
when I told him that, as I supposed he had got the whole story out of
Sayres, and as it was not best that two stories should be told, I would
say nothing. Goddard then took from me my money. One of the keepers
threw me in two thin blankets, and I was left to sleep as I could. The
accommodations were not of the most luxurious kind. The cell had a stone
floor, which, with the help of a blanket, was to serve also for a bed.
There was neither chair, table, stool, nor any individual piece of
furniture of any kind, except a night-bucket and a water-can. I was
refused my overcoat and valise, and had nothing but my water-can to make
a pillow of. With such a pillow, and the bare stone floor for my bed,
looked upon by all whom I saw with apparent abhorrence and terror,--as
much so, to all appearance, as if I had been a murderer, or taken in
some other desperate crime,--remembering the execrations which the mob
had belched forth against me, and uncertain whether a person would be
found to express the least sympathy for me (which might not, in the