DR. JOHN TEODOR.

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Every prisoner was attended by a guard, lest he should endeavour to escape; and every evening upon returning to our cell, we all underwent a close examination lest we should secrete anything to facilitate our escape. Such was our manner of living for one year and eleven months, subject to every insult of the most degrading kind. But the time of our delivery was at hand. A Russian prince sent to the Emperor to obtain permission for a day of rejoicing, even to all the prisoners at Tobolsk. He ordered waggons of provisions to be sent to our prison, and a silver ruble for every prisoner. All were to attend the chapel on this day, and prayers and thanksgivings were to be offered up on the occasion. In the evening, after dinner, the officer on duty came to us, and said he would give us permission to make some Russian punch-nade of whiskey boiled with honey—and himself and the other guards would join us This we were to consider as a great piece of condescension shown to us; and we acceded to the proposition, determining in our own minds, to make it a means of escape we had long ago planned. One bowl of punch was made and emptied, a second and a third followed, smoking and singing enlivened the scene, and seemingly for the first time, voices of joy and gladness re-echoed from the melancholy walls of that imperial emporium of the best and bravest, therefore muchpersecuted men. The soldiers sung from pleasure of drinking punch, and we sung from joy of anticipating our freedom.

At last the guards became drowsy, we offered them more punch, pretending to be quite drunk ourselves; they accepted, poor fellows, and were soon dead asleep. Seizing upon this advantage, the door being still unlocked, and taking the gun from the sentinel, who instead of standing, slept at the door, a sword from another, some of our blankets and shirts, all the food that we possessed, with our boots in our hands, we began our attempt. But we were on the third story; this interposed some difficulty, yet, after some consideration, we proceeded to the corner window in the corridor or passage, through which we descended with great risk and difficulty on to the wall that joined the building in this corner, and which surrounded the whole prison. This wall being about eight feet broad, enabled us to creep on it, with all the speed we could, to that part where was the bridge, and where we resolved to descend. Opposite this bridge was a strong gate, opened only at such times when provisions were received; for the wall on which we made our escape was the outer one, there being another of less magnitude which separated the magazines from the prison yard.

We tied our sheets together, fastened the one end to the iron bar that supported the large Moscovian double-headed eagle, which ornamented the gate, and descended by this means on the outside of this bastile.

It was on the 5th of May, 1845, at two o'clock after midnight, when, after twenty-three months of most horrible sufferings, chained like malefactors, living on mouldy bread and snow water, but in fact, politically dead-that we left this gloomy tomb, and were once more free! The Almighty God had surely assisted us in our deliverance, for it was pitch dark-the rain fell in torrents, it lightened and thundered, and a terrific hurricane raged during the whole night. Drenched to the skin, we reached the forest about three miles distant, at full speed, in safety. We marched continually, during eight days and nights, till we were worn out, yet we did not feel the necessity of sleep. We tore off the red crosses from our long robes, and replaced our red collars with black cloth. On the ninth day we met twenty-four kibitkas that returned empty from Tobolsk, where they had conveyed provisions, and persuading their drivers that we were sappers and miners, we soon agreed with them to take us. Nowak acted as our commander, and the Moscovites, who are a simple, kindhearted people, seeing us bow to the mock-commander, obeyed him in every thing. We made with them about five hundred miles, evading villages, and stopping at inns but for refreshment; and by constantly supplying the drivers with drink, and every thing else they required, together with the promise of forty copeyks in silver, as a douceur, we contrived to escape from many observations, which might have proved fatal to our liberty. Before leaving our Kacaps (the name of the Moscovite peasantry) we provided ourselves well with provisions, and continued our route by crossing the Ural mountains. Now and then we met with some isolated huts, where we purchased peaceably, or by force, the necessary bread, baked from rye-flour, in loaves from twenty to thirty pounds. We passed for workmen returning home; yet many of the inhabitants guessing who we were, cautioned us from danger, and shewed us the way. We spent three months in passing the wilderness of the Ural, a well-known chain of mountains that separates the land of slavery from the land of tortures and martyrisation--the vast imperial natural prison, with its hundreds of thousands of dungeons, and millions of tantalized exiles,

On our flight amongst the deserts of Ural, we fasted once for two days and nights, which enfeebled us so much, that we could scarcely withstand our being overturned by the wind; when, to our greatest joy, we met a herd of cattle, guarded by a boy. We selected at once a heifer, took the boy by force into the forest, paid him with a bank

note of one hundred paper rubles, for we had no change; left him the skin; roasted one part on a fire made of dry wood, and devoured the meat without salt or bread. The boy cried most pitiably for the heifer, but necessity had no consideration where no party is injured, for we paid the value of four such heifers. We kept him with us till the evening, and let him off to return to his flock, taking an opposite direction.

Next evening we encamped in the midst of a forest—made a large fire—began to roast the remnant of the heifer; when, to our greatest consternation, we saw arrive in full march, an army of bears! The moon shone brightly—our fire burnt cheerfully—our meat was ready; but our appetites were gone. Instead of eating, we expected to be devoured ourselves, for we never could suppose that the bears of Siberia would possess more charity than the Czar and his satellites. We climbed, however, upon a large tree, expecting the bears to follow; they moved nearer, but stood from the blazing fire about twelve feet distant; they were all sizes and ages; some were black, some were brown, but the majority of a greyish colour. They looked on us-then on the fire—then on each other, as if consulting; cold as it was, we perspired out of fear; wheħ, as if by impulse, we began all at once to pray, and resolved to abide the will of that God, who saved us from so many perils. All at once, after about an hour of observation, one of the bears, who seems to have been their czar, jumped, as if to draw the attention of his followers, and to our greatest astonishment, ran off as a pursued Cossack, and the whole flock, composed of many hundreds, galloped off after their chief. Hereafter, we met very often with those polite inhabitants of the deserts, in groups from three to twenty, but they never hunted after us, like the precious animals in Muscovia-clad in human shapes.

A few weeks afterwards, when in the midst of the heights of Ural, which are always covered with snow, we wandered for six days without meeting a single woodcutter's hut. Tired and hungry, we resolved to crawl up the highest hill, ascend the loftiest pine, to discover, if possible, a smoking chimney or fire. At once, our brave companion Nowak, who, being the strongest, led the way, was suddenly swallowed up by the earth! We were greatly alarmed, fearing to meet the same fate; however, we began quickly to gather long and strong branches, and laying them crossways, creeped cautiously to the opening into which our brother disappeared. In the mean time he discovered, by the sparks produced from a bit of steel and flint, that he had fallen into a robber's cavern, well furnished with provisions. “Praised be the Lord,” he cried out, emerging by another opening, covered with turf

and branches," there is whiskey, bread, bacon, and meat in plenty." The whiskey revived us a little, the bread, mouldy as it was, when soaked in snow water, could be eaten with the bacon, which was excellent; the meat was useless. Having taken as much provision as we could carry, we thanked God for this mark of grace, and continued our route with cheered-up spirits.

At last we arrived on the banks of the Dzwina, and from hence we knew how to proceed; we crossed the river on a log which we rolled down the hill into the water, and perceived, after a walk of about three miles, a solitary inn, and not having broken our fast for two days we determined upon entering it. Armed with battoons, and posting eight of our number on the watch, in different directions; Nowak, Wisner, and Heidrich, boldly entered the house. They asked for provisions, upon receiving which they tendered a note in payment, of the value of one thousand paper rubles (about £30.) The landlord, a Russian Jew, said he would get the change, for which purpose he entered a back apartment, and immediately dispatched a young girl to the next village, instructing her to send guards forward, for there were three brigands or deserters in the house. This he concluded to be the case, from the garb that we wore. The girl departed to obey these orders, but before she had gone far from the house, she encountered two of our number, and asked them if they were guards? Being answered in the affirmative, she desired them to enter her master's house, for there were three robbers in it, who had offered a large payment for what they had had. They instantly gave a signal, which, being known to us all, we soon entered the house, secured the inmates, and partook of the refreshments which lay on the table. We then made off as quickly as possible, entered a thick wood, and taking that direction which was nearest to Prussia, we walked three days and three nights without stopping, fearing lest we should be overtaken.

We at length came to the river Carlo, but dreaded to cross it as it was day, we therefore waited in the wood till the night was somewhat advanced. There was a little bridge by which we crossed. When we reached the other side we saw a large public house, which we all entered, each carrying his stick, and there we partook of and paid for refreshments. The landlord in giving change for our money, asked who we were. We told him that we were labourers. We then continued our march, which lay across a mountain. When we had reached the top, we perceived two Russian gens d'armes and numbers of peasantry on horseback, riding rapidly towards us. We directly entered a wood, and remained there three days. Finding we had lost some of our companions, we kept continually giving the signal arranged amongst

us; but only three of our number now remained. After searching for a length of time for those missing, we pursued our journey without them, concluding that they must either have taken another track, or have been overtaken by our pursuers. We were exceedingly sorry at the loss of them, but as we could learn no tidings, we were compelled to go on till we arrived at Brachestad port, on the Baltic sea.

Having waited in a wood near this port for some time, thinking perhaps, we might hear something of our companions, one of us then ventured to the port, where he met with a gentleman, who proved exceedingly kind; and after some conversation, this gentleman observed to him that he appeared to be sad, and urged him to speak if he had anything to communicate, assuring him of secrecy. This assurance filled him with confidence, and he informed him of our situation. Upon hearing of our history, the gentleman supplied each of us with a mantle to conceal our dress, and told our companions that we must remain six days longer in the wood, after which a vessel would sail, in which we could escape. He likewise gave him a long white handkerchief, and desired that at the appointed time, we should be about two miles on the other side of the mountain, and when we observed a ship sailing near the edge of the water, we were to wave the handkerchief; he would thereupon know what the signal meant. We did so, and were taken on board the ship, when, to our great joy, we found this gentleman to be the captain. He took our Russian dresses from us and presented us with others, and with grateful hearts we reached Dantzic.

I removed to Brussels, and to escape the vengeance of the Jesuits, I assumed the name of John Czarkowski. How great was my astonishment, when the next morning the Polish general, Skrzynecki, who was in the service of the king of Belgium, and whom I have heard denounced almost in every village in Poland, as a traitor and Russian agent, entered my room unannounced! He invited me very politely to dine with him; introduced me to his family, then to the cardinal of Mechlin, who examined me in the presence of his Jesuitical court, and the general inquired very affably after my companions, especially after one who was archdeacon of Podlachia, John Teodor! sent me a certificate of being one of their brotherhood, and recommended to write to my companions to come to Brussels, where they should find shelter and protection. I was obliged to perform mass after examination, at St. Jacob's, but under pretext of engaging in the usual prayer after it, I went into the sacristy, slipped away to the railway station, and set off to Valenciennes. God helped me in the end to overcome all obstacles, and I went off to Boulogne, and thence to London.