This They Knew Perfectly Well.

Looking back, I cannot imagine how I got through the long, dreary days of idleness, always the same, for twenty-one months.

Chains were nothing compared to the fearful want of occupation. Suppose we had kept a daily diary, the entries would have been generally as follows: - "Took a bath (a painful operation, as the chains, unsupported by the bandages, hurt fearfully); small boy helps to pass my trousers between the chains. To-day, being dry, we crawled up and down our fifteen yards' walk. Breakfast; felt happier that task over. Sick came for medicine. As I am doctor and apothecary, prescribed and made the medicine myself. Samuel, or some trusty native friend who knows that my tej is ripe, came for a glass or two. Go now and smoke a pipe with Cameron. Lay down and read McCulloch's Commercial Dictionary; very interesting book, but sends me to sleep. Afternoon, lay down and got up again; tried once more the Commercial Dictionary. Dinner (I wonder what age the cock we ate had reached); crawled about for, an hour between the huts; lay down, took Gadby's Appendix; but as I knew it by heart, even his curious descriptions have no more attraction. Small boy lighted the fire; the wood was green, the smoke fearful. Had a game of whist with Rassam and Prideaux. I do not suppose they would play with our dirty cards in a guard-room. Lost twenty points. Small boy took off the trousers.

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