almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon sickens over
it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl taste her food and
try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished.
Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks being returned
for what we had not got, and a second hymn chanted, the refectory
was evacuated for the schoolroom. I was one of the last to go out, and
in passing the tables, I saw one teacher take a basin of the
oil paintings
porridge and taste it; she looked at the others; all their
countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the stout one,
whispered-
'Abominable stuff! How shameful!'
A quarter of an hour passed before lessons again began, during
which the schoolroom was in a glorious tumult; for that space of
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