a jail episode.

While in the full enjoyment of that luxury, “A Taste of Austrian Jails,” already related in these pages, I met with a man whose whole life would seem to signify perversion; a “dirty, villanous-looking fellow, with but one eye, and very little light in that.” A first glance at this fellow would call up the reflection, “Here is the result of bad education, and bad example, induced perhaps by natural misfortunes, but the inevitable growth of filth and wretchedness in a large city.”

With thin, straggling wisps of hair thrown, as it were, on his head, a dull glimmer only in his one eye, and his whole features of a crafty, selfish character—such he was; clad in a long, threadbare, snuff-coloured great-coat, reaching almost to his heels, and which served to hide the trowsers, the frayed ends of which explained their condition; on his bare feet he wore a pair of trodden-down slippers, with upper leathers gaping in front with open mouths; a despicable rascal to look at, and yet this was a brother of one of the magistrates of Vienna.

It was soon evident to me that this individual was held in great respect by the rest of the prisoners; such an influence has education,—for he was an educated man,—even in such a place as a common jail.

I was soon informed of the peculiar talent which gave him a prominent position. He was an inexhaustible teller of stories; and, added my informant, “he can drink as much beer as any three men in Vienna.”

This was saying a great deal.

On the second night of my incarceration in Punishment Room No. 1, I had an opportunity of judging of his powers; for, on our retiring to our boards and rugs, which, according to prison regulations, we were bound to do at the ringing of the eight o’clock bell, I heard his peculiar voice announce from the other side of the room, where he lay, propped up against the wall by the especial indulgence of his comrades, that he was about to tell a story. I could not sleep, but lay upon the hard planks listening, as he recounted with a wonderful power of language, and no mean amount of elocutionary dignity, some principal incidents in the life of Napoleon. His companions lay entranced; they did not sleep, for I could hear their whispers, and, now and then, their uneasy shiftings on the relentless wood. And so he went on, and I fell off to sleep before he had come to a conclusion.

This was repeated each night of my confinement, for which he received his due payment in beer from his fellow prisoners.

He professed to have a great affection for me; would take my arm, and walk with me up and down the ward, telling me of his acquirements, little scraps of his history, and invariably making a request for a little beer.

On one occasion it was suggested by the “Vater” that he should tell us his own story.

“My story!” chuckled the unashamed rascal. “Why, all Vienna knows my story. I am the brother of Rathherr Lech, of the Imperial-royal-city-police-bureau of Vienna. My brother is a great man; I am a vagabond. He deserves it, and I deserve it; but he is my brother for all that, and I put him in mind of it now and then.

“My brother, by his zeal and talent, has acquired great learning, and raised himself to a position of honour and independence. And why have I not done the same? Because I am lazy, have got weak eyes, and am fond of beer. I do not care for your wine; good Liesinger beer is the drink for me.

“My brother wished me to attain a lofty position in the world. I am the younger. He paid teachers to instruct me, and I learned a great deal; but it was dry work, and I sought change, after days of study, in beer-cellars, among a few choice boosers. And my eyes were weak, and close study made them worse; and many a day I stole from my lessons on the plea of failing sight. My brother, who is a good fellow, only that he does not sufficiently consider my weakness, employed physicians and oculists out of number; and among them I lost the sight of one eye. It was of no use; I did not like the labour of learning, and I made my weak eyes an excuse for doing less than I could have done.

“At last I gave it up altogether, and my brother got me into the ‘Institute for the Blind.’ That would not do for me at all; I was not blind enough for that. So, one day, when the door was open, and the weather fine, I strolled home again to my brother. This vexed him greatly; but he got over it, and then he placed me in the ‘Imperial Bounty.’ A stylish place, I can tell you, where few but nobles were allowed.

“But how could I, a lusty young fellow, be happy among that moping, musty, crampt-up lot of old respectables? Not I! so, as I could not easily get out in the day-time, I ran away one night, and went back to my old quarters. At first my brother would not see me; but that passed over, for he could not let me starve. He then obtained for me a post in the ‘Refuge for the Aged;’ about the dullest place in all Vienna. I was too young to be one of the members, so they gave me a birth, where I did nothing. But what was the use of that? I could not live among that company of mumbling, bible-backed old people; and if I could, it was all the same, for they kicked me out at the end of a month for impropriety.

“It was lucky for me that I tumbled into a legacy about this time, of eighty gulden mÜnz. I enjoyed myself while it lasted, and never troubled my brother with my presence.

“It did not last long; for, what with drinking beer, and wearing fine clothes, and taking a dashing lodging on the Glacis, I found my eighty guldens gone, just as I was in a position to enjoy them most. But I was never very proud; so, seeing that there was nothing to be done, but to go without beer, or to humble myself to my brother, the rath, I chose the latter course as the most reasonable, and made my peace with him at once.

“And what do you suppose he did for me? He said I had disgraced myself and him at all the other places, so he could do nothing but send me to the ‘Asylum for the Indigent.’ But I did not stay there long. There was no beer there; nothing but thin soup and rind-fleish (fresh boiled beef) all the year round. And a pretty lot of ill-bred, miserable ignoramuses they were—the indigent! Not a spark of life or jollity in the place.

“One day I coolly walked out of the ‘Asylum,’ made off to a house I well knew, and ran up a credit account in my brother’s name of good eight guldens for beer and tobacco. A glorious day! for I forgot all about the ‘asylum,’ and the ‘indigent,’ and every mortal pain and trouble in this inconvenient world.

“I was awakened from a deep dream by a heavy hand on my shoulder, and a loud voice in my ear.

“‘Holloa! friend Lech.’

“‘What’s the matter?’ inquired I, gaping.

“‘Get up, and I’ll tell you.’

“‘Who are you?’

“‘You’ll know that soon enough; I am a police officer.’

“‘And where am I, in God’s name?’

“‘Why, lying on your back, on the open Glacis.’

“That was pleasant, was it not? So they took me to the police-bureau, in the first case, for lying out in the open air; and when they found that I had used my brother’s name to incur a debt, without his permission, they gave me two months for fraudulent intentions.

“‘Why did you not stay at the “Bounty?”’ expostulated my friend, the police-assistant, as we were talking the matter over.

“‘Because it was too aristocratic and uncomfortable,’ answered I.

“‘Perhaps the Rathherr, your brother, will be able to get you into the “Refuge,”’ said he, in a consoling way.

“‘God bless you! they have kicked me out of there long ago.’

“‘Then I know of nothing but the “Indigent” left for you.’

“‘My worthy friend,’ said I, ‘that is the very last place I came from.’

“But I was determined to be revenged. When my time was expired, I sallied forth with my mind fully made up as to what I was to do. I knew the hour when my brother, in pursuance of his duties, usually entered the magistrate’s office, and, attired as I was—look at me! just as I am now—in this old coat, the souvenir of the ‘Indigent,’ and these free-and-easy slippers, I waited at the great entrance of the Magistracy, to pay my respects to my brother, the Rath.

“I saw him coming; and, as soon as he reached the foot of the flight of stone steps, I marched forward, gave him a mock salute, and exclaimed, in a loud voice,

“‘Good morning, brother!’

“‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded he.

“‘Look here, brother!’ said I, ‘look at this coat, and these shoes.’

“‘Remove this fellow!’ exclaimed he to the police, who were standing at his heels.

“I knew what would be the result, but had determined to have the play out. So I drew off my slipper, and, thrusting my hand right through the hole at the toe, I made a bit of play with my fingers, and shouted in his ear:

“‘Look at this, brother. Are you not ashamed to see me? Look here! Look at this kripple-gespiel (puppet show)! Look!’

“Of course I was laid hold of; and here I am for another two months, for insulting a city functionary.”

This story was received with a glee only equalled by the gusto with which it was related. The last expression, “kripple-gespiel,” was peculiarly his own.

Before leaving Vienna, about a month after my release, I had determined to see the BrÜhl, a wild, wooded, and mountainous district, at a short distance from the city. We had spent a delightful day among its thick pine woods, and on its towering heights, and in the evening made our way to the small town of MÖdling, where we intended to take the railway to Vienna. But there was a grand fÊte in the pleasure grounds close to the town, accompanied by a magnificent display of fireworks. This whiled away the time, and it was already dark, as we at length bent our steps towards the railway station.

Suddenly a voice that I knew too well, struck upon my ear.

“Pity the poor blind!” it exclaimed.

I turned, and behold! there was my one-eyed jail acquaintance, planted against a brick wall, a stout staff, at least six feet long, in his hand, and his apparently sightless eyes turned up to the sky.

“Pity the poor blind!”

In the greatest fear lest, even in his present blind condition, he might recognise, and claim me as an acquaintance, I hurried from the spot with all the speed of which I was capable, and, thank Heaven, never set eyes upon him again.