None of the authorities ever inquire whether he has any means of subsistence; there is neither bed blanket, nor even straw, unless the prisoner can buy it, and then he must pay the guards to let it pass to him.

Amongst the many thousands of unfortunate beings who are now confined in Portugal, great numbers of them are without money or any other means of subsistence; and were it not for the charity of people in general, starvation would necessarily ensue.

The only authorities employed about the prison are a jailer, secretary, and eight guards; of the latter three are always on duty; one of them being stationed at the first iron gate at the entrance of the prison, another at the second gate, and a third to attend the interior, each with a bunch of keys in his hand, which serve for nearly all the doors.  The guards are relieved every night at nine o’clock, when, the man who is posted at the outer door carries a strong iron rod (see the Engraving) with which he strikes every bar in the windows and gates of the gaol; and if any one of them does not vibrate, or ring, he carefully inspects it to ascertain whether it has been cut with a saw, or corroded by any strong acid.  This dismal music lasts an hour.  The whole expense of the prison to government does not exceed 16_s_. per day, and the few officers and guards, when Mr. Young was there, manage upwards of four hundred prisoners.  He was confined from June 16, to September 7, and his account of the myriads of bugs, rats, mice, and other vermin is truly disgusting.  The reader will however readily credit this report when he has been told of the revolting state of the city itself.  Mrs. Baillie, in her recent Letters on Lisbon, says, “for three miles round Lisbon in every direction, you cannot for a moment get clear of the disgusting effluvia that issue from every house.”  Doctor Southey says “every kind of vermin that exists to punish the nastiness and indolence of man, multiplies in the heat and dirt of Lisbon.  In addition to mosquitoes, the scolopendra is not uncommonly found here, and snakes sometimes intrude into the bedchamber.  A small species of red ant likewise swarms over every thing sweet, and the Portuguese remedy is to send for the priest to exorcise them.”  The city is still subject to shocks of earthquake; the state of the police is horrible; street-robbery is common, and every thief is an assassin.  The pocket-knife, which the French troops are said to have dreaded more than all the bayonets of either the Spanish or the Portuguese, is here the ready weapon of the assassin; and the Tagus receives many a corpse on which no inquest ever sits.  The morals, in fact, of all classes in Lisbon appear to be in a dreadful state.

* * * * *

THE CARD.

A tale of truth.

(For the Mirror.)