sts to lead the other editor to the lane
first, and to spare Mr. Krause until Mr. Kretschmer had been
chastised. The provost seized hold of Mr. Kretschmer and dragged him
to the terrible lane; they pushed him in between the rows of soldiers,
who, with rude laughter, were flourishing the rods in their hands.

Already the first, the second, the third blow has fallen on the back
of the editor of the _Vossian Gazette_, when suddenly there sounds
a powerful "Halt!" and General Count von Tottleben appears, with
Gotzkowsky at his side, and followed by his brilliant staff.

With a wild scream Kretschmer tears himself loose from the hands of
the provost-marshals, and rushes toward the general, crying out aloud;
Mr. Krause awakens from his heavy, despairing brooding, and both
editors sink down before the Russian general.

With a mischievous smile, Tottleben looked at Mr. Kretschmer's
bleeding back, and asked, "Who are you?"

"I am the _Vossian Gazette_" whined out Mr. Kretschmer, "whom you have
accused of such cruel things. Ah! we have suffered great injustice,
and we have been represented as worse than we really are. Oh, believe
me, your excellency, I have been belied. I never hated Russia!"

"You are both of you accused of libel," said Tottleben, sternly.

"If we are guilty of libel, it is without our knowledge," said Mr.
Krause. "Besides, we are very willing to recall every thing. I confess
we were in error. We did not know you and your army, and we spoke
ignorantly, as the blind man does about colors. Now we are better able
to judge. You are the noblest among noble men, and finer soldiers than
the Russians, and a chaster woman than the Empress Elizabeth, are not
to be found anywhere. Oh, yes, your excellency, _Spener's Journal_ is
ready to eat its words. Only don't let me be flogged, sir, and I will
sing your praises everlastingly, and proclaim to all the world that
the Prussian has no better friend than the Russian, and that God has
ordained them to be brothers."

"Only don't let us be flogged," implored Mr. Kretschmer, rubbing his
sore back, "I promise your excellency that the _Vossian Gazette_
shall be as tame as a new-born infant. It shall never indulge in bold,
outspoken language; never have any decided color. I swear for myself
and my heirs, that we will draw its fangs. Have, therefore, mercy on
us!"

The general turned away with a smile of contempt. "Enough, gentlemen,"
said he, roughly, and laying his hand on