the sombre gloom, and the mumble of voices from
out of the obscurity, made it seem more like some
anteroom to the infernal regions.

Most of the men were suffering from tired feet,
and they prefaced the meal by removing their
shoes and unbinding the filthy rags with which
their feet were wrapped. This added to the gen
eral noisomeness, while it took away from my appe
tite.

In fact, I found that I had made a mistake. I
had eaten a hearty dinner five hours before, and
to have done justice to the fare before me I should
have fasted for a couple of days. The pannikin
contained skilly, three-quarters of a pint, a mixture
of Indian corn and hot water. The men were
dipping their bread into heaps of salt scattered
over the dirty tables. I attempted the same, but
the bread seemed to stick in my mouth, and I
remembered the words of the Carpenter: " You
need a pint of water to eat the bread nicely."

I went over into a dark corner where I had
observed other men going, and found the water.
Then I returned and attacked the skilly. It was
coarse of texture, unseasoned, gross, and bitter.
This bitterness which lingered persistently in the
mouth after the skilly had passed on, I found es
pecially repulsive. I struggled manfully, but was
mastered by my qualms, and half a dozen mouth-

[[102]]

p101 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p102w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p103

v?