The next morning one of the Melville's boys was taken ill of the dysentery; the doctor came to see him, and prescribed some medicine, which came in the shape of a bitter brown mixture; it did him no good, for in a few days he grew so much worse, that he was removed down to the jail again, where, by-the-bye, the two marines who were ill had been left, as they were unable to bear the moving. Poor fellows! they felt very much being separated from their comrades, and left behind; but it was of no use complaining; they were obliged to submit. As for the boy that was taken from us, (the same that I dragged out of the water, when we were wrecked,) he left us, I might almost say, with a determination to die, so entirely did he despair; his forebodings were too true, as he died shortly after in the jail.

The window was besieged all day by well dressed persons, who came to see “the lions;” at first we only looked again, but getting bolder by degrees, we turned beggars, and from every fresh batch that came to the window, we requested something—either money, tobacco, or cakes, not being very particular: if they refused to give anything, we immediately slid the panels to, which most effectually prevented their seeing us, and the soldiers, our guard, very soon turned them out.