Sleep was out of the question, for night was made hideous by the muffled shouts and blasphemies that forced themselves through the padded cell. But a reprieve at length came, and it was with a sense of relief that I one morning saw him taken off to Hanwell. The lull, however, was not of long duration; and he was eventually sent back as “cured.” The cure showed itself in a curious way. On finding himself again in his old quarters, and smarting under a pretended sense of breach of faith, he raved that the doctor at Hanwell had promised to release him if he withdrew his claim to the crown of Ireland. And now a reign of terror began in earnest, and shouting for Parnell, his secretary, the Empress Eugenie, and Old Ireland, he raved and roared day and night. How human nature could bear such a strain appeared marvellous. One night all was calm. “Thank goodness!” I thought, “he’s collapsed.” Had he? The wish, alas! was father to the thought, and the lull was only the precursor of the storm. Whilst we were sleeping the maniac was maturing his plans, and a shout of “Fire!” one night reminded us of his proximity. Smoke was now issuing from the padded cell. To draw back the ponderous bolts was the work of a second. To distinguish anything was absolutely impossible. Blinding smoke filled the cell, and as it poured out a terrible sight presented itself. On the floor was the charred mattress, the horse-hair alight, and the plank bed smouldering, and peacefully lying beside it was the madman. The first idea was that he was dead, but the smoke that would have killed a sane man had but temporarily stupefied him. In an instant he was on his feet, and, his arms being free, made a desperate attack with pieces of glass on the two men who had humanely approached him. Further help was now sent for, during which time he kicked, struck, and bit everything within reach, and it required sixteen men to secure and remove this wild beast in human form. The extent of his mischief now made itself apparent. How he had removed the handcuffs remains a mystery, but with the cunning and dexterity only to be found in maniacs, he had succeeded in reaching the gas, which, situated ten feet from the ground, and protected by a strong glass, must have taxed his ingenuity, not only to reach, but eventually to open, and yet this had been done so quietly that forty men and a watchful warder in the adjoining room heard nothing. With the fire now at his disposal, he had burnt the straps that were lashed round his body to secure the sack, but finding the effect not sufficiently expeditious, had proceeded to pull out the bed-stuffing, and lying down naked, bruised, and bleeding, beside the smouldering mass, calmly awaited the conflagration that was to free him. The cell presented an extraordinary appearance. On the floor were broken glass, burning wood, and his clothes torn to shreds; here the handcuffs, there the charred straps: the