her than eat it. Others ate it, but
their stomach afterwards rejected it. They were locked in the cells at
5 o'clock and without lights. Prison regulations were most strict at
this period.

Mr. S., one of the Reformers, had the misfortune to have his teeth
drawn a short while before the trial. A new set was completed the day
after his incarceration, and although his friends used every effort
to convince the jailers of the perfect harmlessness of these false
teeth, and explained Mr. S.'s painful predicament in being without
them when he had nothing but hard food to chew, they insisted upon
considering them contraband, and would not allow them to pass. Poor
Mr. S. lived for three days on a half-tin of condensed milk, smuggled
in by the wife of a fellow-prisoner. The world has never seen such
wholesale smuggling as was practised by these devoted women. Mrs.
Solly Joel as she passed daily through the prison gate was a complete
buttery. The crown of her hat was filled with cigars; suspended from
her waist, under her dainty summer silk skirt, hung a bottle of cream.
Tied to her back by way of a bustle was a brace of duck, or a roasted
fowl wrapped neatly in linen. She said this gave her a slightly
out-of-date appearance, but she did not mind that. Under her cape Mrs.
Clement wore a good-sized Bologna sausage around her waist as a belt;
this was in time adroitly removed by Mr. Clement. Another lady
supplied the prisoners with tins of sardines and beef essence, which
she carried concealed in her stockings. Occasional vagaries on the
part of these affectionate wives were subsequently explained to the
complete satisfaction of their captive lords. Mrs. Butters' coyness
and refusal to be embraced because of the flask of coffee in her bosom
is an instance of this. All this sounds very funny now, but it was
desperately earnest work then. In time the stringent rules relaxed.
The prisoners were allowed to buy their own food, and Mr. Advocate
Sauer made the same arrangement with the Pretoria Club to supply food
for the Reformers as had been done during their former imprisonment.
Those were boom times for little Pretoria. Hotel-keepers and tradesmen
coined money, and the cab-drivers were able to open an account with
the bank.

Mrs. Lionel Phillips closed up her beautiful home in Johannesburg,
sent her babies to her people at the Cape, and took permanent lodgings
in Pretoria. She was most faithful in her visits to the prison, and
was k