bade D'Alegre go out and wait for me on the other side, and should I meet with any misfortune in fetching the portmanteau, to flee at the least noise. Thanks to Heaven! I got it without any disaster; he drew it out; I followed, and gladly left the rest of our luggage be the sentinel could not be above 'At the moment that I began with my gimlet to bore a hole between two stones to insert our levers, the major's round passed us with the great lantern, but twelve feet at most over our heads. To conceal ourselves we stood up to the chin in water, and when it was gone I soon made two or three small holes with my gimlet; and in a short time we got a large stone out. We then attacked a second and a third stone. The second watch passed us, and we again slipped into the water up to our chin. We were obliged to perform this ceremony regularly every half hour that we were disturbed by the watch. Before midnight we had displaced two wheelbarrows of stones; and in a few hours had made a breach in the wall, which is four feet and a half thick. I immediately 'In the trench of St. Anthony's gate we thought ourselves out of danger; he held one end of my portmanteau, and I the other, taking the way to Bercy. | We had scarcely advanced fifty steps when we fell into the aqueduct in the middle of that great trench, with at least six feet of water over our heads. My companion, instead of gaining the other side, for the aqueduct is not six feet wide, dropped the portmanteau to hang on me. Thus dangerously entangled, with a jerk I made him let go his hold, clinging at the same moment to the opposite side, and plunging my arm in the water, drew him towards me by the hair of his head, and afterwards my portmanteau, which floated on the surface. We were not till now out of danger, Here ended the horrors of that dreadful night. As the trench formed a declivity, thirty paces from thence we were on dry ground. Then we embraced each other, and fell on our knees, to thank God for the great mercy He had bestowed on us, that neither of us had been dashed to pieces in the fall, and that He had restored us to liberty. Our and informed Latude of his suc cess. Furnished with a parish rope-ladder was so exact as not to be a foot too long or too short; every part of it was so well disposed that not an inch was out of its place. All the clothes on our backs were thoroughly soaked; but we were provided for this inconvenience by those in my portmanteau, which being well covered at top with dirty linen, and carefully packed, were not injured by a drop of water. Our hands were galled by drawing out the stones to form a breach; and what may be thought surprising is, that we were less cold up to the neck in water than on dry ground, when a universal tremor seized us, and we almost lost the use of our hands. I was obliged to be my friend's valet de chambre, and he in return mine. As we mounted the slope it struck four o'clock. We took the first hackney coach, and went to the house of Mr. Silhouette, chan-it with transport. At length, cellor of the Duke of Orleans; but as unluckily he was at Versailles, we flew for refuge to the Abbey of St. Germain-desprez.' To gain strength after their toils, as well as to let the hue and cry die away, the friends remained nearly a month in concealment. It having been settled between them, that in order to avoid being both caught at once, they should quit the country separately. D'Alegre, in the disguise of a peasant, set out on his journey to Brussels. He reached that city in safety, thought I, I can breathe without fear! My companions, with astonishment, demanded the cause of this extravagance. I pretended that just at the very moment in a preceding year I had escaped a great danger, and that I always expressed my gratitude to Providence by a similar prostration when the day came round.' Latude had appointed D'Alegre to meet him at the Hotel de Coffi, in Brussels. Thither he went immediately on his arrival; but there disappointment and sorrow awaited him. The landlord at first denied any knowledge of D'Alegre, and when further pressed he hesitated, and became extremely embarrassed. This was enough to convince the inquirer that his friend had been seized; and the conviction was strengthened by his having heard nothing from him, though D'Alegre knew the moment when his companion would reach Brussels. As his friend could be arrested on the Austrian territory, it was obvious that Latude could not remain in it without danger; and with a heavy heart, he resolved to fly instantly from this inhospitable soil. He secured a place in the canal boat, which was that night to proceed to Antwerp. In the course of the voyage, he learned the fatal truth from a fellow-passenger. He was told that one of the two prisoners escaped from the Bastile had arrived at the Hotel de Coffi, had been apprehended by a police officer, and had been ultimately sent under a strong escort to Lille, and there delivered into the custody of a French exempt; and, moreover, that all this was kept as secret as possible, in order not to alarm the other fugitive, the search after whom was carried on with such activity, that he must inevitably fall into the hands of his pursuers. Believing that if he went on immediately to Amsterdam, he would find there an officer of the police waiting to seize him, he directed his steps to Bergen op-Zoom. But now another trouble fell upon him. He had nearly exhausted his scanty stock of money, and had not found at Brussels a remittance which he expected from his father: he afterwards learned that it had been intercepted by the French exempt who was employed to trace him. While he remained at Bergen-op-Zoom, which was till he supposed that his enemies would have lost the hope of his coming to Amsterdam, he wrote to his father for a supply. But a considerable time must elapse before he could receive it, and in the meanwhile he would run the risk of starving. When he had paid the rent of his wretched garret at Bergen-op-Zoom, and the fare of the boat which was to convey him to Amsterdam, a few shillings was all that was left. In this state of penury, unwilling to beg, he tried whether life could be supported by grass and wild herbs alone. The experiment failed, for his stomach rejected the loathsome food. To render his herbs less disgusting, he bought four pounds of a black and clay-like rye bread to eat with them. Hoping that by this time the bloodhounds of the marchioness had desisted from seeking him in the Dutch capital, Latude ventured to embark. To hide his poverty, he kept aloof as much as possible from his fellowvoyagers. He was, however, not unobserved. There was in the boat one John Teerhost, who kept a sort of humble public-house, in a cellar at Amsterdam. Under his unprepossessing exterior he had a heart as kind as ever beat in a human breast. Chancing to catch a sight of Latude's sorry fare, he could not help exclaiming, 'I declare! what an extraordinary dinner you are making! You seem to have more appetite than money!' Latude frankly owned it was so. The good-natured Dutchman immediately led him to his own table. 'No compliments, Mr. Frenchman,' said he; 'seat yourself there, and eat and drink with me.' On further acquaintance with him, Latude discovered that his host was not only a truly benevolent man, but that he had also the rare talent of conferring favours with such delicacy, as not to wound the feelings of the person whom he obliged. When they reached Amsterdam, Teerhost offered to introduce him to a Frenchman named Martin, who, judging from himself, he doubted not would be delighted to serve him. Latude, however, found that his fellow-countryman was one of the most soulless persons whom he had ever seen; a being who cared only for self. He was better fitted to be a turnkey of the Bastile than the consoler of one of its victims. The tears and low spirits of his guest disclosed to the Dutchman the reception which Latude had met with, and the foreboding that I oppressed him. Taking his hand, he said, 'Do not weep; I will never abandon you. am not rich, it is true, but my heart is good; we will do the best we can for you, and you will be satisfied.' Teerhost's underground habitation was divided by a partition into two rooms, one of which served as kitchen, while the other was at once shop, sittingroom, and bed-room. Though the narrow tenement was already crowded, Teerhost contrived to make a sleeping place for Latude in a large closet, and he and his wife cheerfully gave him a mattress from their own bed. Not content with feeding and lodging the fugitive, Teerhost strove to divert him from melancholy thoughts, by taking him wherever there was anything that could amuse him. charitable efforts were but partially successful; for the mind of Latude was deeply saddened by his own precarious situation, and still more by his incessantly brooding over and regretting the fate of D'Alegre. His Though Latude had found no sympathy in Martin, he was more fortunate in another of his countrymen, Louis Clergue, a native of Martagnac, where the fugitive was born. Rich and compassionate, Clergue gave Latude a room in his house, made him a constant partaker of his table, and furnished him with clothes and linen. The linen was not the least acceptable of these gifts, for Latude had been forty days without a change of it. Clergue also assembled his friends to hear the story of his guest, and to consult what could be done for him. They were all of opinion that Latude had nothing to fear, as neither the States-General nor the people of Amsterdam would ever consent to deliver up a persecuted stranger, who had confidingly thrown himself on their protection. Even Latude himself began to believe that at last he was safe. The unfortunate man was soon wofully undeceived. Not for a moment had his pursuers slackened in the chase; not a single precaution had they neglected that could lead to success. In aid of the subaltern agents, the French ambassador had also exerted himself. By representing the fugitive as a desperate malefactor, he had obtained the consent of the States to arrest him. Calumny was one of the weapons uniformly employed against prisoners, in order to insulate them from their fellow-creatures, by extinguishing pity. But in this instance, there seems reason for believing that bribery was an auxiliary to calumny. The expense of following up the fugitives was no less than £9000 sterling, a sum for which it is impossible to account, without supposing that much of it was expended in bribes. Though Latude had changed his name, and the address to which his friends were to direct their communications, the active agents of the marchioness had succeeded in intercepting all his letters. One was at last allowed to reach him, as the means of effecting his ruin. It does not appear whether his residing in the house of M. Clergue was known to them; probably it was; but if it were, they perhaps thought that it would be imprudent to seize him there, as his protector might proclaim to the populace the innocence of his guest, and thus excite a tumult. A letter from Latude's father, containing a draft on a banker, was therefore forwarded to him. Into this snare he fell. As he was proceeding to the banker's, the Dutch police officers pounced upon him, and he was immediately fettered and dragged along. The crowd which had quickly gathered were told that he was a dangerous criminal; but as the numbers nevertheless continued to increase, the brutal officers, who were armed with heavy bludgeons, dealt their blows liberally on all sides, to clear the way to the Town Hall. One of these blows struck the prisoner with such violence on the nape of the neck, that he dropped senseless to the ground. When consciousness returned, he was lying on a truss of straw in a dungeon; there was not a ray of light visible, not a sound to be heard. He seemed to be cut off from the human race, and he resigned himself wholly to despair. His tumultuous re |