The sight of the enemy’s preserves excited a degree of interest which might be equalled—­not surpassed—­by the phenomenon (in pre-war days) of a procession of white elephants.  And in the general chorus of favourable criticism—­favourable because they were cheap, probably, if not exactly “gift” animals—­nobody looked the cattle in the mouth.  Very popular were these confiscations; and in view of so many augmentations of the stock at Kenilworth, it was not too much to hope that the ravenousness of the public appetite would be allowed its wonted scope.  No longer was there meat for breakfast, not even on Sunday morning when we had leisure to masticate it.  To tell anybody, to hint the heresy that eight ounces of meat sufficed to preserve health, would be indiscreet.  To suggest that an extra plate of porridge with a few sardines thrown in (that is, to follow) might make up the deficiency, would be rude.  Tinned sardines, salmon, crawfish, brawn, and such eatables were not reckoned fish at all; they were eaten—­to stave off starvation—­but they did not appease.  As for butter; we had none for our bread!  Fresh butter was unprocurable.  Even the salted unguent sold in tins was hard to get, and only a very good customer could buy a tin, at a huge price, from his grocer.  The hens stood the test of the times better, and laid their eggs generously as if nothing had happened.  But their numbers were small, and not sufficient to provide for local consumption at any time—­still less so since chops had been proscribed.  The owners of the birds, sad to say, were in many cases small, too—­mentally; they ate more eggs, in lieu of butter, on toast than was necessary.  The price of eggs kept daily moving up by sixpences and shillings, and they were yet comparatively cheap at elevenpence each (each egg!).  But it was some comfort, however cold, that money could buy eggs.  They were indubitably fresh, but beyond the reach, too “high” (at elevenpence) for the average man, or even for men of substance opposed on principle to eating money.  Ham and bacon, also, were expensive.  The local pork had never been highly prized.  The African pig is more noted for his speed than for the rashers he offers when his race is run; he is tough, and grunts vapidly; his tail corrugates rather than curls; he eschews jewellery—­his nose is free; and the land also being free, he pays no rent.  But the ox was “off” (in large measure), and the pig, hitherto despised, had come to be looked up to as an asset and a “gentleman.”

In the afternoon a heavy hailstorm passed over the town; the clatter of hailstones—­of enormous size—­was unprecedented.  It furnished a new and refreshing topic of conversation, and the war was dropped for full five minutes—­while the shower lasted.  Rumours Of a meditated attack on the enemy’s fortifications were the subject of much speculation; that the morrow would be a big day was the general feeling at bedtime.