ONE OF the most noticeable effects of siege-life has been to bring out into prominence all the mean and selfish characteristics of the individual, as well as the heroic and self-sacrificing. People who in times of peace pass for very nice, sociable individuals, with no particularly mean tendencies, when subjected to deprivation in the food-supply, and their nerves become a bit shattered with the sound of whistling bullets, the shrieking of flying shells, or the dull thud followed by the crashing and grinding of solid shot, show up in their true bedrock character, and are meanness to the core. It has been most interesting to observe the dissolution of previous friendships, often of years’ standing, and the making of new ones between individuals formerly more or less at variance. This has come about sometimes from a man or woman with a sick child, or sick member of his or her family having no supplies of their own, begging a tin of milk or a can of soup or some little delicacy or necessity from a friend having abundance of stores. Upon a flat refusal on the ground that he has none he can spare, the aforetime friend realizes the depth of the former friendship and has no wish to continue it. Again, another instance: A gentleman has gone to inquire of a person in authority in a certain establishment, where he is to move another gentleman, a mutual friend, ill and unable to take care of himself, to a place of safety, from quarters no longer tenable, and is told: “If you have been near the sick man, keep away from me. Do what you please with him, only keep away from me and mine, as we are fearful of contagion.” “But what do you advise?” persists the inquirer of his quondam friend and superior. “I don’t advise anything,” is the reply. “Is he to be left alone to die or be captured, where he is?” still persists the anxious friend. “That is none of my business,” is the heartless answer, destroying a friendship which had existed for twenty years. Then, too, it has been an interesting study to watch the effects on the optimistic man and the pessimistic man of the various rumors that have drifted in through occasional reports from captives or deserters from the enemy’s troops. The optimist believes that our enemies are discouraged, are short of ammunition, are fighting among themselves, are firing high purposely not to injure us; that the relief force is very near, that flashes of heat lightning are search-lights of our friends, etc. The pessimist believes the powers are fighting among themselves to prevent relief until no one power has more troops in the relief than any other; scouts the idea of search-lights; says that the provisions are nearly exhausted; sees new barricades erected by the enemy every night; recounts the fatal casualties, increasing each day, and notes the diminishing strength of the remainder, and, moreover, fully believes and constantly asserts that we are only staving off for a little while an inevitable general massacre.