"Come," he continued, "put out your tin and I'll give you some." I told him my appetite was not robust enough for his hospitality, and he passed on, probably feeling sure I should not eat the prison fare, and thinking the stuff too good to be wasted.

I took the little brown loaf he offered me and examined it closely.

It was very hard, and apparently very dry.
Depositing it on the shelf, I breakfasted on cold water and the slice of bread-and-butter left over night.
After this sumptuous repast I was let out for exercise.

This time the three "condemned" blasphemers were not taken to a separate court.

We paraded the common yard with the other prisoners.