CHAPTER XIV.
_December 18th._ Prisoners have before now endeavoured to while away their long hours of captivity by watching spiders making their webs.

I can understand this.
In the dreary monotony of this dreariest of sieges a spider would be an event.

But alas, the spider is outside, and we are the flies caught in his toils.

Never did time hang so heavily on human beings as it hangs on us.

Every day seems to have twice the usual number of hours.