Another special artist being at Metz, found himself in the midst of a population infected with what he called the 'spy-fever.' About a dozen English newspaper correspondents were there, and they became a united body through persecution. There was always about a fourth of their number in prison, and what most persons would have considered to be clear evidence that they were not spies, was in the minds of the French clear evidence that they were. If they were told that the correspondent of an English newspaper could not possibly be a spy, the reply was that that was just the character that a _cochon_ of a Prussian spy would assume. The townspeople of Metz became quite wild when they heard of the French defeats at Wörth and Forbach, and when they saw an artist sketching the Emperor's carriage, they pounced upon him as a Prussian spy, and he and his companions were marched off in custody, amid the hootings of the mob. The following account of this affair is extracted from the _Illustrated London News_ of August 20, 1870: 'Three of the representatives of London papers, Mr. Simpson, Mr. Henry Mayhew and his son, went to the railway station, having heard a rumour that the Emperor was about to start for the front, and also that a train full of the wounded was expected to arrive. At the station they met Mr. Stuart, another newspaper correspondent, who had just come from Italy, having travelled all night. They found the Emperor's carriage and horses waiting to be forwarded by a train on the railway towards St. Avold. Our artist thought it would be doing no harm to employ the few minutes of his waiting at the station in making a slight sketch of the carriage and horses, which might be useful as materials for an illustration of some future scene where the same equipage might figure. He took a small sketch-book and pencil out of his pocket and quickly finished this little drawing. There was no attempt at concealment; he even showed his sketch to one of the bystanders who was close to him, and who seemed to watch his movements with some curiosity. Mr. Simpson then rejoined his three English companions, but had scarcely done so before they were surrounded by a large party of artillery soldiers, who wore undress jackets and had not their arms with them. They were taken into custody, each one placed between two soldiers, and thus were marched through the streets of Metz to the Place de la Cathedral. A mob of people followed, increasing as they went on, and reviling the foreigners as "Sacrés Prusses," or "Cochons de Prusses," threatening vengeance upon them, which might probably have been taken if their violence had not been restrained by the presence of the soldiers. The whole party were then brought into the guard-room, where several persons came forward as their accusers to denounce them as spies of the enemy, lurking about Metz with a hostile and insidious purpose. The chief evidence against one of them