A favourite theme with him was speculation about the day’s food: “What do you think we shall have for supper to-night?” he would ask, buttonholing somebody; “I am sure they are making ‘everyone-likes-it.’” “Perhaps; but perhaps it is mince and groats,” his interlocutor might say, just to please him by falling in with his humour. Then Posen’s tongue would be loosened, and he would prove his important point beyond question, giving all his reasons; he would dilate on it for half an hour, and would wind up with, “Will you back your opinion?” “All right, we’ll have something on it; what shall it be?” “Three matches!” cries Posen; everyone laughs; and he himself seems thoroughly pleased with his joke. He had at bottom a vain and petty spirit, and showed later that he could come to any compromise with the authorities in order to satisfy his own small desires. * * * * * Deficiency and poverty of nourishment soon affected my health, although I had all my life hitherto been thoroughly robust. After a few months I felt a weakness in the legs, and could no longer hold myself upright; then black and blue patches made their appearance on the skin of my legs, my gums began to suppurate, and my teeth became loose. I betook myself to our medical adviser, Prybylyev. “Hullo, my friend, you have got a beautiful attack of scurvy!” said he; “you’ve been quick about it.” He ordered me invalid diet, and I was given a daily cutlet with plenty of garlic. I was not the only one to suffer in this way from the insufficient feeding; next spring a number of us were victims to the same disease, and, strangely enough, it was always the strongest and healthiest who succumbed. Improved diet and the skill of our good Prybylyev soon tided me over the worst; after a while I could walk once more without crutches, my gums healed, and soon I could dispense with invalid food. For a long time, however, I felt the after-effects of my illness. I have a keen recollection of my first spring in Kara. I was overcome by an indescribable yearning and longing that made the burden of the aimless, senseless life within prison walls lie like a leaden weight on my spirits, in face of the new life of nature springing up so freely all around. Even reading, almost the sole occupation I could invent for myself outside the daily work, was impossible. The letters danced before my eyes; no sense of what I had read remained in my mind; memory failed me; and my fancy alone worked untiringly. In any case mental exertion under the conditions of prison life has but little result in proportion to the time and energy expended; the physical state of the prisoner reacts on his mind, dulling his faculties and weakening his resolution. But in the spring-time, when every living thing revives and asserts itself in action, it is hardly possible to resist distraction from merely mental labour.