and champaign but actually over the thoroughfares of a capital city, which we could see blackened by day with the moving crowd of the inhabitants, and at night shining with lamps.  And lastly, although I was not insensible to the restraints of prison or the scantiness of our rations, I remembered I had sometimes eaten quite as ill in Spain, and had to mount guard and march perhaps a dozen leagues into the bargain.  The first of my troubles, indeed, was the costume we were obliged to wear.  There is a horrible practice in England to trick out in ridiculous uniforms, and as it were to brand in mass, not only convicts but military prisoners, and even the children in charity schools.  I think some malignant genius had found his masterpiece of irony in the dress which we were condemned to wear:  jacket, waistcoat, and trousers of a sulphur or mustard yellow, and a shirt or blue-and-white striped cotton.  It was conspicuous, it was cheap, it pointed us out to laughter—­we, who were old soldiers, used to arms, and some of us showing noble scars,—­like a set of lugubrious zanies at a fair.  The old name of that rock on which our prison stood was (I have heard since then) the Painted Hill.  Well, now it was all painted a bright yellow with our costumes; and the dress of the soldiers who guarded us being of course the essential British red rag, we made up together the elements of a lively picture of hell.  I have again and again looked round upon my fellow-prisoners, and felt my anger rise, and choked upon tears, to behold them thus parodied.  The more part, as I have said, were peasants, somewhat bettered perhaps by the drill-sergeant, but for all that ungainly, loutish fellows, with no more than a mere barrack-room smartness of address:  indeed, you could have seen our army nowhere more discreditably represented than in this Castle of Edinburgh.  And I used to see myself in fancy, and blush.  It seemed that my more elegant carriage would but point the insult of the travesty.  And I remembered the days when I wore the coarse but honourable coat of a soldier; and remembered further back how many of the noble, the fair, and the gracious had taken a delight to tend my childhood. . . .  But I must not recall these tender and sorrowful memories twice; their place is further on, and I am now upon another business.  The perfidy of the Britannic Government stood nowhere more openly confessed than in one particular of our discipline:  that we were shaved twice in the week.  To a man who has loved all his life to be fresh shaven, can a more irritating indignity be devised?  Monday and Thursday were the days.  Take the Thursday, and conceive the picture I must present by Sunday evening!  And Saturday, which was almost as bad, was the great day for visitors.