keepers—mingled with the tramp of jailors and soldiers, the chatter of clerks, and the boisterous laughter of the reckless. The first room you enter is lofty and spacious, and is dedicated to the transaction of such ill—arranged business of the establishment as its officials can find leisure to attend to. Passing this concourse of subalterns,—some writing, but all noisy,—the plan and uses of the building begin fully to develope themselves.
Behind you are the massive iron gates through which you have lately passed, before you is a long extended passage, through one of the strongly-barred side windows of which you perceive that the lofty corridor you have entered, is carried round a square courtyard beneath; in the centre of that is a pool of water, and around it are grouped the majority of the prisoners confined in the Accordada. The building is strong and extensive—as it need be, to contain such an astounding number of prisoners. It is wholly deficient, however, in the order and regularity which an establishment of the kind imperatively requires; the prisoners having little reason to complain of strict discipline, or very scant rations—especially the groups of léperos, who
