he dreary solitude of my prison,
comforting many a lonely hour by memories of the past. The glittering
ranks of the mounted squadrons; the deep-toned thunder of the artillery;
the solid masses of the infantry, immovable beneath the rush of
cavalry,--were pictures I could dwell on for hours and days, and my
dearest wish could point to no higher destiny than to be once more a
soldier in the ranks of France.

During all this time my mind seldom reverted to the circumstances of
my imprisonment, nor did I feel the anxiety for the result my position
might well have suggested. The conscious sense of my innocence kept the
flame of hope alive, without suffering it either to flicker or vary. It
burned like a steady fire within me, and made even the dark cells of a
jail a place of repose and tranquillity. And thus time rolled on: the
hours of pleasure and happiness to thousands, too short and flitting for
the enjoyments they brought. They went by also to the prisoner, as to
one who waits on the bank of the stream, nor knows what fortune may
await him on his voyage.

A stubborn feeling of conscious right had prevented my taking even the
ordinary steps for my defence, and the day of trial was now drawing nigh
without any preparation on my part. I was ignorant how essential the
habits and skill of an advocate are in the conduct of every case,
however simple; and implicitly relied on my guiltlessness, as though men
can read the heart of a prisoner and know its workings. M'Dougall, the
only member of the bar I knew even by name, had accepted a judicial
appointment in India, and was already on his way thither, so that I had
neither friend nor adviser in my difficulty. Were it otherwise, I felt I
could scarcely have bent my pride to that detail of petty circumstances
which an advocate might deem essential to my vindication; and was
actually glad to think that I should owe the assertion of my innocence
to nothing less than the pure fact.

When November at length arrived, I learned that the trial had been
deferred to the following February; and so listless and indifferent had
imprisonment made me, that I heard the intelligence without impatience
or regret. The publicity of a court of justice, its exposure to the gaze
and observation of the crowd who throng there, were subjects of more
shrinking dread to my heart than the weight of an accusation which,
though false, might peril my life; and for the first time I rejoiced
that I was friend