The chap as made 'em afore me used to do three dozen a week.

Wasn't he a darned fool?
Now, don't you go makin' more than two a day, or you'll put my nose out of joint." "No," I promised, "I won't make _more_ than two a day." "Ah," he said, looking at me with a comical twinkle of the eyes, "I see you ain't a goin' to make brushes." At this point the warder stepped up, and invited me to try my hand.
"Thank you," I replied; "the Governor told you to let me see how brushes are made, and I have seen how brushes are made." Then bowing slightly, I walked straight back to my cell, leaving the officer almost petrified with astonishment.

I heard no more of brush-making.
My objection to the work was simple.

It was more interesting than picking fibre, but it necessitated stooping, the brush being held, like a shoe, between the knees.

As a lecturer, I knew too well the value of a sound chest to engage in such employment.
I come now to the diet.