The women had a hut for themselves; only a late
arrangement, however, as before they had to sleep in the same houses
as the men. The space was very limited and the prisoners were packed
in like herrings in a barrel. Abyssinians themselves, hard-hearted
as they are, described the scene at night as something fearful. The
huts, crowded to excess, were close, the atmosphere fetid, the
stench unbearable. There lay, side by side, the poor, starved
vagabond, chained hands and feet, and often with a large forked
piece of wood several yards long fixed round his neck, and the
warrior who had bled in many a hard-won fight, the governor of
provinces--nay, the sons of kings and conquered rulers themselves.
In the centre the guards, keeping candles lighted all night, laughed
or played some noisy game, indifferent to the sufferings of the
unfortunates they watched. At day-dawn, always about 6 A.M. in that
latitude, the prison-door was opened, and those who were lucky
enough to possess any, repaired to the huts they had erected in the
vicinity of the sleeping-houses, while the poorer crawled about the
prison inclosure, awaiting their pancake loaf with all the impatience
of hungry men, just kept from immediate starvation by the _bounty_
of the Emperor. Others strolled about in couples, begging from their
more favoured companions, or, when leave was granted, went from
house to house imploring alms in the name of the "Saviour of the
World.
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