jail.  It was a pity he lacked the enterprise to take care of himself when set at liberty, as it cost him four months’ imprisonment and his friends some money.  I ought to have mentioned before that, on arriving within the waters of the District, Sayres and myself had been examined before a justice of the peace, who was one of the captors; and who had acted as their leader.  He had made out a commitment against us, but none against English; so that the persons who had him in charge were right enough in letting him go.

Sayres and myself were at first put into the same cell, but, towards night, we were separated.  A person named Goddard, connected with the police, came to examine us.  He went to Sayres first.  He then came to me, when I told him that, as I supposed he had got the whole story out of Sayres, and as it was not best that two stories should be told, I would say nothing.  Goddard then took from me my money.  One of the keepers threw me in two thin blankets, and I was left to sleep as I could.  The accommodations were not of the most luxurious kind.  The cell had a stone floor, which, with the help of a blanket, was to serve also for a bed.  There was neither chair, table, stool, nor any individual piece of furniture of any kind, except a night-bucket and a water-can.  I was refused my overcoat and valise, and had nothing but my water-can to make a pillow of.  With such a pillow, and the bare stone floor for my bed, looked upon by all whom I saw with apparent abhorrence and terror,—­as much so, to all appearance, as if I had been a murderer, or taken in some other desperate crime,—­remembering the execrations which the mob had belched forth against me, and uncertain whether a person would be found to express the least sympathy for me (which might not, in the existing state of the public feeling, be safe), it may be imagined that my slumbers were not very sound.

Meanwhile the rage of the mob had taken, for the moment, another direction.  I had heard it said, while we were coming up in the steamboat, that the abolition press must be stopped; and the mob accordingly, as the night came on, gathered about the office of the National Era, with threats to destroy it.  Some little mischief was done; but the property-holders in the city, well aware how dependent Washington is upon the liberality of Congress, were unwilling that anything should occur to place the District in bad odor at the north.  Some of them, also, it is but justice to believe, could not entirely give in to the slave-holding doctrine and practice of suppressing free discussion by force; and, by their efforts, seconded by a drenching storm of rain, that came on between nine and ten o’clock, the mob were persuaded to disperse for the present.  The jail was guarded that night by a strong body of police, serious apprehensions being entertained, lest the mob, instigated by the violence of many southern members of Congress, should break in and lynch us.  Great apprehension, also,