year of one had expatiated felicitously on the architecture of the “Ornament,” the merits of the architect, and the enterprise of the contractors.  “There was a sound of revelry by night”—­for two consecutive nights.  Two awfully fancy dress balls were given; and had the shade of the Duchess of Richmond waltzed from the heavens to the waxed floor of the hall, it would have assumed flesh and blood again on beholding the picturesque costumes of every age and court presented to its spectral view.  I will not prolong a description of those halcyon days of Municipal splendour in these of common khaki.  Let it suffice to add that the “lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.”  The “cannon’s opening roar” was soon to be heard in the land; but all unmindful of the nation of farmers the “shopkeepers” tripped it on the toe.

Well, we were besieged; and the great Hall was adapted to very different uses.  It was made headquarters.  Within its walls the Town Guard were formally “sworn in,” and supplied with hats, rifles, bandoliers, and ammunition.  Hundreds of distressed refugees congregated there, for one of the Offices of the building had been transformed into a benevolent grocery shop, presided over by benevolent ladies.  There also did mass some thousands of natives to gather their picks and shovels and pay.  The Town Hall was the pivot round which revolved all sorts and conditions of men.  Overrun inside and outside by roadmakers, citizen soldiers, and municipal officers (whose military dignity had raised their souls above scavenging), it was bad enough.  But when the rich and poor of all classes and sexes were forced to join in the scramble for a bit to eat, it was worse.  Until the “permit” system had come into vogue, money could buy much (of what was going); but the “permit” system lowered mammon to his rightful level.  Money for the moment had lost its value; a “permit” was all-important—­even Croesus himself would have starved without one.  To procure these useful scrips all sorts of formalities had to be entered into, and the amount of time lost in waiting to prove one’s right to live was provocative of many an oath, at the expense of the British army.  Kafirs, coolies, Europeans of all nations, the wealthy the poor, and the lowly—­all struggled to procure the precious “permit,” as if they were at all hazards determined to gain one week’s respite before finally succumbing to hunger’s pangs.  It must be owned that the work was carried on more smoothly when the black sheep were separated from the white, and when different days were assigned for attending to the residents of each of the respective wards into which the town was divided.  The incompetence of the military in civil affairs added to the grievances of the people; complaint against the administration of the “Law” was as loud as the clamour against the “Law” itself.  The bother entailed in the procuring of authority to purchase food, and in the purchase of it, was extreme.  The food was not worth it; but life is precious (or