It was an old one, and contained some scratches by a Gallic prisoner, who had been twice immured for smuggling (_pour contrabandier_), and who pathetically called on God to help him.

_Cette vie est vie amere_, he had written.

Yes, my poor French friend, it was bitter indeed! As for the hymn book, it contained two or three good pieces, like Newman's "Lead, Kindly Light," but for the rest it was the scraggiest collection I ever met with--evangelical and wooden, with an occasional dash of weak music and washy sentiment.
The monotony of my existence was not even broken by visits to chapel.
After the first day's attendance at "divine worship" for some reason I was not let out at the hour of devotion.

After a few days, however, one of the principal officers said to me "Wouldn't you like to go to chapel, Mr.Foote.

There's nothing irksome in it, and you'll find it breaks the monotony." "With pleasure," I replied, "but I have not till now received an invitation." "What!" he exclaimed.