do so on this night and re-enter the town betimes in the morning.  Meanwhile he sat down on a heap of stones in the street, and, overcome by fatigue, fell into a profound sleep.  He was awakened by the patrol:  his first confused words excited suspicion, and he was arrested and carried to the station-house.  After all his perils, his escapes, his adventures, his disguises, to be taken by a Prussian watchman!  The next morning he was examined by the police:  he declared himself a French artisan on his way home from Russia, but as having lost his passport.  The story imposed upon nobody, and he perceived that he was supposed to be a malefactor of some dangerous sort:  his real case was not suspected.  A month’s incarceration followed, and then a new interrogation, in which he was informed that all his statements had been found to be false, and that he was an object of the gravest suspicion.  He demanded a private interview with one of the higher functionaries and a M. Fleury, a naturalized Frenchman in some way connected with the police-courts.  To them he told his whole story.  After the first moment’s stupefaction the Prussian cried, “But, unhappy man, we must send you back:  the treaty compels it.  My God! my God! why did you come here?”—­“There is no help for us,” said M. Fleury, “but in Heaven’s name write to Count Eulenberg, on whom all depends:  he is a man whom everybody loves.  What a misfortune!”

He was taken back to prison.  He wrote; he received a kind but vague reply; delays followed, and investigations into the truth of his story; his anguish of mind was reaching a climax in which he felt that his dagger would be his best friend after all.  A citizen of the place, a M. Kamke, a total stranger, offered to go bail for him:  his story had got abroad and excited the deepest sympathy.  The bail was not effected without difficulty:  ultimately, he was declared free, however, but the chief of police intimated that he had better remain in Koenigsberg for the present.  Anxious to show his gratitude to his benefactors, fearful, too, of being suspected, he tarried for a week, which he passed in the family of the generous M. Kamke.  At the end of that time he was again summoned to the police-court, where two officials whom he already knew told him sadly that the order to send him back to Russia had come from Berlin:  they could but give him time to escape at his own risk, and pray God for his safety.  He went back to his friend M. Kamke:  a plan was organized at once, and by the morrow he was on the way to Dantzic.  Well provided with money and letters by the good souls at Koenigsberg, he crossed Germany safely, and on the 22d of September, 1846, found himself safe in Paris.

AUSTRALIAN SCENES AND ADVENTURES.

TWO PAPERS.—­1.