heir presence that the gangs had
stared as they passed.

One of these four men was young, one middle-aged, and two well down the
hill of life, the oldest being a tall and emaciated old man of at least
seventy years. They were four political prisoners--namely, Geoffrey
Ripon, Featherstone, Sydney, and the old Duke of Bayswater. There was a
warder in charge, who addressed them by numbers instead of names. He
called Geoffrey "406;" Featherstone, "28;" Sydney, "No. 5," and the old
Duke, "16." The prisoners recognized their numbers as quickly as free
workmen would have answered to their names.

"No. 5," said the Warder, sharply, a bearded man, with the bearing of an
old infantry soldier, "you must put more life into your work. You have
been fooling around that stone for the last ten minutes."

"No. 5" raised himself from the bending posture in which he had been,
and looked at the officer with a gentle reproach.

"It is a heavy stone, and I have been thinking how it can be moved,"
said "No. 5," and he smiled at the officer. He was not the Sydney of
old, but a woe-begone creature, obviously sixty years of age, on whose
thin frame the gray clothes hung in loose folds.

The officer thought "No. 5" was making fun of him, and he became angry.

"No use thinking," he shouted; "move the stone."

"No. 5" tried again, but his starveling strength could not shake a tenth
of its weight.

"Here, you, 16," cried the officer to the old Duke; "bear a hand here.
Your mate says he can't move that stone."

"No. 16" and "No. 5" applied their united force to the stone, but it
remained as before. The two poor old fellows regarded it with perplexity
while furtively watching the officer. It was pitiful to see the
expression of simulated mortification on their faces, which was meant to
placate the Warder.

"Let me assist them," said Geoffrey to the officer, and he got a good
"purchase" on the block and easily heaved it from its bed.

"No. 16," the old Duke, bowed his thanks, and "No. 5" pressed Geoffrey's
hand. The officer, more rough than cruel, turned away to hide a smile at
the courtesies of his charge. Soon after, he gave them instructions
about the work, and left them, going down to "The Farm" to superintend
the making of a new drain.

"This is heavy work, Duke," said Geoffrey to the old man; "but we ought
to be thankful for the sentiment which sends us to do it instead of the
criminals."

"I suppose so," said the Duke, in a despo