ut
forty years of age, was of a pleasing manner and countenance. He informed
me he was sorry for my misfortune, but it was the fortune of war. I
apologised for my dress, which was as wretched as my thoughts. At this
time a young man in the French naval uniform came to me and asked me how I
was. I remembered him as one of the officers sent to capture us. He spoke
indifferent English, and as my knowledge of the French language was
slight, I was glad to pair off with him. At the dinner-table were ten
officers and one lady. I was seated on the left side of the Comte. I cut a
sorry figure among so many smart and star-coated men. The dinner was
plentiful and good, and everybody chatty and in good humour, in which I
could not help, notwithstanding my situation, taking a part. After we had
taken our coffee I naturally concluded I should be on parole. When I took
my leave the captain in the navy and another officer said they would walk
with me as it was dusk, and I presumed we were going to an inn--but, oh,
horror of horrors! I was conducted to the prison from whence I came. They
there wished me good-night, and I wished them at the devil. Next morning,
after a restless night on a bed of straw, we were awakened by the grim,
hard-featured gaoler who had been kind enough to lock us up. He asked the
doctor if we wished to have breakfast, and if we could pay for it; he
answered in the affirmative. This turnkey gentleman informed us that our
first admiral, Mons. Poncevan, had been killed by an assassin. This report
puzzled all our wise heads. An hour afterwards our _cafe-au-lait_ entered,
and with it the principal gaoler, or, as he was called, Mons. le
Gouverneur. He was a stout, square-built man, and gave us an inquisitive
look. The doctor, who was an Irishman and our interpreter, asked him the
news, and if he were ever at Cork. "No," answered he, "I never was in
America! but," said he, "I understand that your Prime Minister, Mr.
Piercevell, has been shot by an assassin." He meant Mr. Percival. We were
sorry to hear such bad news, as Mr. Percival was certainly a loss to his
country and his large family. However, it did not destroy our appetite for
breakfast. The considerate governor only charged us as much more for it as
we should have paid at the best coffee-house in the town.

After two days of durance vile I was visited by three very wise-looking
men, who, I understood, were some sort of lawyers. One of them produced a
printed pape