One morning the signal bell pealed out, and all the men had to go up and see what they were wanted for. There was a terrific storm raging, and we were told that we had to cut wood for the dining-room and parlour fires, but not one would stand out in such weather to do the work. We went to the boss and told him that we would cut the firewood as soon as the storm was over. "How often am I out in the rain?" he said, "it won't melt you--you're not sugar." Turning to the overseer, he ordered us to be put on Government rations, and we were then the recipients of 7 lbs. of flour, 3-1/2 lbs. of cornmeal, and 7 lbs. of meat--what the men used to call "staggering bob"--in the week. Saturday came--ration day--and I went up for my allowance as usual; but when it came to the donation of meat, I was shown a large piece of bone with a small piece of meat attached to it. "Is that what I am going to get?" I asked. "Yes," replied the overseer, "and if you don't like it, leave it!" I left it, declaring to myself to have some more of the fowls and turkeys out of the castor-oil bushes. Two nights passed; the third was showery, and very convenient for the job; it was also very dark. I armed myself with a bag, and proceeded up to where they used to roost. My bag was soon half-full of poultry, and some of them were cooked and eaten in double-quick time, for the others had onions out of the vegetable garden cooking while I was away. The remainder of the poultry, not eaten that night, was hidden in the swamp and eaten as required. It was very convenient to have the vegetable garden handy, and the gardener had just planted out a hundredweight of onions, but when he went to see how they were growing there were but very few left. This was the only way to cure hunger after a day's toil. One night about a week afterwards I went up to the castor-oil trees for another pair of fowls, and who should I see on the other side of the bushes but ----, the constable, helping himself to a fowl also. I did not have to wait long, for he soon got his, and then the coast was clear, so I got mine and departed. The constable was looked upon as a very honest fellow, but he was caught at last taking two sacks of flour and some other provisions, and 12 months in irons was his lot. At this time it took as much material to make a pair of trousers for him as would make two pairs for an ordinary man, and when his hair was cut and his whiskers shaven, he looked like a "mountain in a fog." But the hard boards and one blanket, with only a sleeper for a pillow, soon told on him, for in less than three months, after good doses of "hominy" and the pick, he became as thin as a whipping post, although he was fortunate enough to escape without a flogging. Some men had wonderful luck in this way; the greatest rogue generally got off the lightest.