Presently we came to a red-brick building of grim and ancient aspect, with still visible evidences of an ancient moat. Turning up a rudely cobbled way, we passed through an old wooden gateway, which, opened for our admittance, closed immediately again, making a welcome shutting-out of the noise of the rabble. We were in a sloping courtyard of circumscribed appearance, with a square old red-brick tower standing up in the dusk, and a surrounding of other buildings, with rolling roofs, having rounded dormer windows in them. Most of the other officers were disappointed at a first impression of the place. “Lee’s happy,” said one, “because he’s got an old castle to sketch!” Before we could presume on bed--for which, having spent a sleepless night in the train, we were more than ready--there had to be a searching of baggage. This brought me no little searching of heart, my impedimenta, as an old-timer, being easily the heaviest, and containing sketches and journals which I desired to preserve. I was busily explaining the multitude of these note-books by hinting at my theatrical activities at Carlsruhe, when another of the examining officers produced from one of my portfolios what at first sight might have seemed to be a somewhat incriminating sketch of that camp. Beyond a rather flattering interest in my artistic efforts generally, however, the drawings were passed without trouble, but the _Oberleutnant_ said that it would be necessary to retain for perusal one book of my journal. [Illustration: THE PRISON CAMP AT BEESKOW--AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMANDANT.] I found that my dormitory was located in what had been a bishop’s palace, the arms still being visible on either side of one of the windows. Passing up a very old and dirty, but not uninteresting staircase, and through a somewhat dingy and dilapidated dining-hall, I obtained sanctuary with eleven other officers in an equally dingy and disreputable room, the ancient oaken cross-rafters of which had been painted to a ridiculous imitation of marble! Notwithstanding, there was small likelihood of my dreaming “that I dwelt in marble halls.” Lights, for this night only, were not turned out until midnight, though I have it on my conscience that I endeavoured to mislead the _Feldwebel_ into the belief that this was the customary hour at Carlsruhe. [Illustration: THE OLD TOWER, BEESKOW LAGER]