THE TWIN HELLS

A Thrilling Narrative of Life in the Kansas and Missouri Penitentiaries

By John N. Reynolds

ATCHISON, KANSAS. 

 TO MY DEAR OLD MOTHER AND TO THE MEMORY OF MY SAINTED WIFE THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. 

PREFACE

The following pages treat of hell--A Kansas hell and a Missouri hell. Those who desire to peruse works that tell about Heaven only, are urgedto drop this book and run. I was an inmate of the Kansas penitentiaryfor sixteen months, and make mention of what came under my ownobservation in connection with what I experienced. While an inmate ofthis prison I occupied cells at various times with convicts who hadserved terms in the Missouri prison. From these persons I gathered muchuseful material for my book. After my release I visited the Missouripenitentiary, and verified the statements of those criminals, andgathered additional material from the prison records and the officials. I have written chiefly for the youth of the country, but all ages willbe deeply interested in the following pages. A large majority of theconvicts are young men from sixteen to twenty-five years of age. Theyhad no idea of the terrible sufferings of a convict life, or they surelywould have resisted temptation and kept out of crime. The followingpages will impart to the reader some idea of what he may expect toendure in case he becomes entangled in the meshes of the law, and iscompelled to do service for the State without any remuneration. Everypenitentiary is a veritable hell. Deprive a person of his liberty, punish and maltreat him, and you fill his life with misery akin to thosewho wander in the darkness of "eternal night, " I think, when the readerhas perused the following pages, he will agree with me, that the bookhas the proper title. That this volume may prove an "eye-opener" to theboys who may read it, and prove interesting and instructive to those ofmature years, is the earnest wish of the author. 

A KANSAS HELL

CHAPTER I. MY INITIATION AND CRIME

Guilty! This word, so replete with sadness and sorrow, fell on my ear onthat blackest of all black Fridays, October 14, 1887. 

Penitentiary lightning struck me in the city of Leavenworth, Kansas. Iwas tried in the United States District Court; hence, a United Statesprisoner. 

The offense for which I was tried and convicted was that of using themails for fraudulent purposes. My sentence was eighteen months inthe penitentiary, and a fine of two hundred dollars. I served sixteenmonths, at the end of which time I was given my liberty. During theperiod I was in prison I dug coal six months in the penitentiary coalmines, and was one of the clerks of the institution the remainder of theterm. Getting permission to have writing material in my cell, I firstmastered short-hand writing, or phonography, and then wrote my book: "AKansas Hell; or, Life in the Kansas Penitentiary. " My manuscript beingin short-hand, none of the prison officials were able to read it, anddid not know what I was doing until I obtained my liberty and had mybook published. 

This, no doubt, will be the proper place to give some of my antecedents, as well as a few of the details of the crime for which I was sent tothe penitentiary. I spent my youth and early manhood at Indianola, Iowa, from which place I removed to Nebraska. After residing for some time inColumbus, of that State, I was appointed by the governor to assist inorganizing the Pawnee Indian Reservation into a county. When organizedit was called Nance County, being named for Hon. Albinus Nance, thengovernor of the State. I held the position of county clerk of thatcounty for four consecutive years. During this time I organizedthe Citizens' Bank. I was its cashier at first, and, later on, itspresident. I had a lucrative business and was doing well. My wife'shealth failed her; she became consumptive. My family physician advised aremoval to the South. I closed out my business at a great sacrifice, andcame to Atchison, Kansas. Here I located, and made it my future home. Soon after my arrival I commenced the publication of a daily newspaper, known as the "Times. " In the county in which I located I found one ofthe worst and most corrupt political rings on the face of the earth. This combination had controlled the politics of the county for almost aquarter of a century. Soon I became involved in a terrific newspaper warwith the members of this political organization. An election of countyand State officials was soon to take place. In order to test thestrength of the contending elements, in my newspaper, I presentedthe name of Hon. W. D. Gilbert as a candidate for district judge inopposition to the ring candidate. A sharp fight ensued. Mr. Gilbertwas elected by an overwhelming majority. This was the first time fortwenty-five years that this ring had been defeated. The members ofit were very sore. Looking upon me as the principal spirit, I was theobject toward which they directed all their shafts of spite. 

Some time before this an insurance company had been organized in thecity of Atchison. I was invited to become its president. I examined thebooks of the corporation, and found it to be organized according to thelaws of Kansas; that the company had a charter from the State, and alsocertified authority to issue policies of insurance, granted by the Stateinsurance commissioner. I accepted the presidency on condition thatthe company was simply to have the use of my name, and that I was notexpected to give any of my time to the company, as I was otherwiseengaged. I was editor of a daily newspaper, and could not attend toanything else. While this company was doing business a printed circularwas used, stating that the corporation had one hundred thousand dollarsPAID up capital. This circular was sent out through the mails overthe State advertising the business. It was charged this circular wasfraudulent; that the company did not have that amount of capital paidin. My name was attached to this printed circular. For this, I wasindicted in the United States District Court, on the charge of usingthe mails for fraudulent purposes. The advertised capital of thiscorporation was SUBSCRIBED, but not all paid in, as it was not needed inthe business of the company. After indictment I was arrested, and gavebonds for my appearance at the next term of court, which was held soonafter. 

Not being able to secure the attendance of all my witnesses, my attorneywrote the prosecuting attorney asking his consent that my case becontinued. The request was granted. When the case was called, myattorney appeared and introduced a motion to continue the case, filingaffidavits necessary in such cases. The prosecuting attorney havinggiven his consent, there was no doubt in the minds of those interestedas to the continuance of the case. For some cause best known to himself, the judge would not grant the continuance, and forced me to trialwithout having a single witness. It was my intention to have some fiftywitnesses subpoenaed, to prove that the insurance company of which Iwas president was not a fraud. Not being allowed to have my witnesses, I was, under the instructions of the court, which were, indeed, exceedingly pointed, found guilty, and sentenced to eighteen months'imprisonment and to pay a fine of two hundred dollars. The politicalring now triumphed for a brief period. In order to prove conclusivelyto the reader that this was a piece of spite work, I have only to statethat I was the only one of all the officers of that company that wasever tried for running a bogus insurance company. Why was it that Iwas the only one sent to the penitentiary when there was the secretary, treasurer, and six directors equally as guilty as myself?

To prove more conclusively that it was political spite work that sent meto prison, let me inform the readers that about the time the insurancecompany at Atchison was organized, a similar one was organized inTopeka. They were similar in EVERY RESPECT. I was president of the oneat Atchison, while a distinguished gentleman by the name of Gen. J. C. Caldwell was president of the one at Topeka. Both of these companiesfailed. The president of the Atchison company was sent to thepenitentiary, while the president of the Topeka company was appointed bythe governor of the State to the responsible position of chairman of theState Board of Pardons. Many persons have asked why this difference inthe treatment of the presidents of these two companies. The only answerthat can be given is that General Caldwell stood in with the Kansaspolitical ring, while I did not. Every sensible man must admit that ifit was just for me to serve a term in prison for the offense chargedagainst me, General Caldwell should have been prescribed for in the samemanner. I have no fight to make upon Mr. Caldwell. He is an excellentgentlemen. He was in luck. The fates were against me. Had I been a Stateinstead of a United States prisoner, no doubt Mr. Caldwell, as chairmanof the Board of Pardons, would have used his influence to secure for memy liberty. That I was sent to prison is wholly due to politics. It isunnecessary, therefore, for me to inform the reader that I am now"out of politics. " Having served out my term I returned to my home inAtchison. As to the ring that sent me to prison, some of them are dead, others have left Atchison to make their homes in other places, othershave failed financially, and still others have fallen so low that theyhave scarcely friends enough to bury them should they happen to die. 

The big wheel of life keeps on revolving. Those who are up to-day maybe down to-morrow, and vice versa. But to continue my narrative. Immediately after my conviction and sentence I was taken to theLeavenworth County jail. Here I remained until the following Tuesdayin the company of a dozen or more prisoners who were awaiting trial. OnSunday, while in this jail, my wife, who died during my imprisonmentof a broken heart, and an account of which is given in a subsequentchapter, came to see me. I can never forget this visit. She remainedwith me during the entire day. During the conversation of the day I saidto her that, it seemed that the future appeared very gloomy. That itwould be a miracle if I ever was able to survive the disgrace that hadbeen so cruelly placed upon me. That all ambition and hope as to thefuture had fled, and that I could not blame her if she should now freeherself by means of divorce, as my conviction of crime was a legalground for divorce in Kansas. In reply to this, the noble little woman, her face aglow with the radiance of womanly devotion, said, that fortwenty years of married life our home had been one of sunshine; that Ihad been kind to her and made her life one of happiness, and that now, when misfortune came, it was not only a duty, but the highest pleasure, to prove her fidelity. She kept her word. She was true to the last. Whendying, her last words were a petition for the blessings of God uponher husband who was far away behind frowning prison walls. On Tuesdaymorning a deputy United States marshal came to the jail and gave menotice that in a few moments we would leave for the penitentiary. Thisofficer was a gentleman, and did not seek to further humiliate me byplacing irons on my person. I have often thought of this act of kindnesson the part of this humane official. We took the train at Leavenworth, and in a very few moments were at my future place of residence. Lansing, the small village where the penitentiary is located, is about five milesfrom the city of Leavenworth. The entrance to the prison is from thewest. Under the watchful care of the officer who had me in charge, Ipassed under a stone archway, to the left of which was a small office, where a guard was on duty during the day time. We were halted by thisofficer, who inquired if we had any firearms. No one visiting thepenitentiary is allowed to carry fire-arms within the enclosure. Themarshal who had me in custody handed over a large navy revolver. Betweenthis archway and the western wall of the prison is a beautiful lawn. Thewalks are lined with fragrant flowers; beautiful fountains send alofttheir silvery sprays. Passing up the roadway leading to the entrancedoor, and looking about me upon the rich carpet of green, the flowersand fountains, I came to the conclusion that the penitentiary was not sobad a place as I had imagined. I changed my mind, however, as soon as Ihad seen inside the walls. 

The prison enclosure contains about ten acres of ground. This issurrounded by a stone wall some fifteen feet high, and six feet thick atthe base. It is not more than four feet at the top. At each of the fourcorners may be found a tower rising some ten feet above the wall. Aguard is on duty in each of these towers during the day. He carries adouble-barreled shotgun loaded with buckshot. In case a prisoner triesto escape he is liable to get a dose of lead, provided the officer onduty is a good marksman. The western wall is almost entirely made of alarge stone building with its two long wings. The main building is fourstories. The wings stretching to the north and south, each two hundredand fifty feet, contain the cells. On the first floor of the mainbuilding are the offices of the warden, clerk, deputy warden andturnkey. The upper rooms are used by the warden's family. 

I was first conducted into the clerk's office and introduced to Mr. Jones, the clerk. He is a very pleasant gentleman, and spoke kindly tome, which I can assure all was very acceptable, for just about that timeI was feeling very badly. His remark was: "I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Reynolds, but sorry to meet you under these sad circumstances. " Onhis invitation I took a chair and sat down to await the next part of theprogamme. As I sat there and thought of the kind words spoken to me bythe clerk, I quickly reached the conclusion that if all the officersof that institution were as kind as Mr. Jones, it would not be as bad aplace as I had anticipated. I had no experience then that would justifyany other conclusion. Soon a side door of the office opened and in camethe deputy warden, Mr. John Higgins. Mr. H. Is the sourest appearing manI ever met in my life. At least, it seemed so to me on that day. He canget more vinegar on the outside of his face than any other person in theState of Kansas. He did not wait to be introduced to me. He never cravesan introduction to a criminal. As soon as he came into the room he gota pole with which to measure me. Then, looking at me, in a harsh, gruffvoice he called out: "Stand up here. " At first I did not arise. At thesecond invitation, however, I stood up and was measured. My descriptionwas taken by the clerk. In this office there is to be found adescription of all the criminals that ever entered the Kansaspenitentiary. I was asked if I was a married man, how many childrenI had, and how much property I possessed. These questions were easilyanswered. After the deputy warden had discharged his duty he retired. Isoon discovered that it was according to the rules of the prison forthe officers to talk in a harsh and abrupt manner to the prisoners. Thisaccounted for the way in which I was greeted by the deputy warden, whois the disciplinarian of the prison. I may say, in passing, that all theharsh manners of Mr. Higgins are simply borrowed for the occasion. Awayfrom the presence of prisoners, over whom he is to exert his influence, there is not to be found a more pleasant and agreeable gentleman. Incame a second official, and, in the same gruff manner, said to me, "Comealong. " I followed him out to the wash-house, where I took a bath. Aprisoner took my measure for a suit of clothes. After he had passed thetape-line around me several times, he informed the officer that Iwas the same size of John Robinson, who had been released from thepenitentiary the day before. "Shall I give him John Robinson's clothes?"asked the convict. In the same gruff manner the officer said, "Yes, bring on Robinson's old clothes. " So I was furnished with a second-handsuit! The shoes were second-hand. I am positive about this laststatement, judging by the aroma. After I had been in the penitentiarysome four months, I learned that John Robinson, whose clothes I hadsecured, was a colored man. Being arrayed in this suit of stripes I wascertainly "a thing of beauty. " The coat was a short blouse and striped;the stripes, white and black, alternated with each other, and passedaround the body in a horizontal way. The pantaloons were striped;the shirt was striped; the cap was striped. In fine, it seemed thateverything about that penitentiary was striped--even to the cats! Beingdressed, I was next handed an article that proved, on examination, tobe intended for a handkerchief. It was covered with large blueletters--"Leavenworth Mills. XXX Flour, " etc. It was a quarter sectionof a flour sack! Nine hundred prisoners very soon empty a great manyflour sacks. After the flour has been consumed the sack is cut up intoquarter sections, washed, hemmed and used for handkerchiefs. No betterhandkerchief can be invented. They are stout, stiff and durable! Theywill bear all manner of nasal assaults! There is no danger of blowingthem into atoms, and the officials are not afraid to give them out toconvicts sent there charged with the use of dynamite! One of them hasbeen known to last a prisoner for five years. 

After I had donned my suit and taken possession of my handkerchief, Iwas ordered to fold my arms. Prisoners marching in ranks, or going toand fro about the prison enclosure, are required to have their arms inthis position. The object is to prevent them from passing articles. Iwas marched to the building known as the south wing of the cell house. In this building, which is two hundred and fifty feet long, there arecells for the accommodation of five hundred convicts. The prisoners whooccupy this wing work in the shops located above ground, and within theprison enclosure. 

The officer in charge conducted me to cell number one. Click went thelock. The door was pulled open, and in his usual style, he said, "Getin. " I stepped in. Slam went the door. Click went the lock, and I was ina felon's cell! These rooms are about four feet wide, seven feet long, and seven feet high. In many of the cells two men are confined. Theserooms are entirely too small for the accommodation of two prisoners. A new cell house is being built, which, when completed, will affordsufficient additional room so that each prisoner can have a cell. Inthese small rooms there are two bunks or beds when two convicts occupythe same cell. The bed-rack is made of iron or wood slats, and thebed-tick is filled with corn-husks; the pillow is also filled with thelatter material, and when packed down becomes as hard as a board. Whenthe beds are not in use they are fastened to the side of the wall witha small chain. When down and in use they take up nearly the entire spaceof the cell, so that it is impossible for the two occupants to pass eachother in walking to and fro. The other furniture consists of a smalltin bucket, holding about two quarts of water, and a wash-basin. Ashort-handled broom is also found in one corner of the cell, withwhich the convict brushes it out every morning. The walls are of stone, decorated with a small looking-glass and a towel. Each cell contains onechair and a Holy Bible. There is no rich Brussels carpet on the floor, although prisoners are allowed one if they furnish it themselves. Nocostly upholstered furniture adorns these safe retreats! Nothing inthat line is to be discovered except one cane-bottomed chair for theaccommodation of two prisoners, so that when one sits on the chair theother stands, or occupies a seat on the stone floor. There is not roomfor two chairs, or the State would furnish another chair. These roomsare built of stone. The door is of one-half inch iron bars, crossingeach other at right angles, leaving small spaces about two by sixinches; through these spaces come the air, light and heat for the healthand comfort of the inmates. When I entered my cell on that eventfulmorning I found it occupied by a prisoner. He was also a new arrival; hehad preceded me about an hour. When I entered he arose and gave me hischair, taking a seat on the floor in the opposite corner. After I hadbeen locked in, before going away the officer said, "Now I don'twant you fellows to get to talking, for that is not permitted in thisinstitution. " We sat in silence, surveying each other; in a few momentsmy companion, seeing something in my personal appearance that caused himto lose his self control, laughed. That he might give full vent to hislaughing propensities, and not make too much noise, he drew from hispocket his quarter section of a flour bag and put it into his mouth. Hesoon became as red in the face as a lobster. I was curious, of course, to know what it was that pleased him so much. Rising from my chair, going to the door and looking through the openings I could see noofficer near, so I asked my companion, in a whisper, what it was thatpleased him so. It was with difficulty and after several trials beforehe could succeed in telling me what it was that caused him to be soconvulsed. I told him to take his time, cool off gradually, as I hadeighteen months, and could wait patiently. At last, being able tocontrol his feelings sufficiently to tell me, in the midst of hisoutbursts of laughter, he said, "You look just like one of them zebrasin Barnum's Circus!" When my attention was called to the matter, sureenough, I did look rather striped, and I, amused at his suggestion, laughed also. Soon an officer came gliding around in front of the cell, when our laughing ceased. My companion was a young fellow from DoniphanCounty. He got drunk and tried to rob an associate, still drunker, ofa twenty dollar gold piece. He was arrested, tried and convicted ofrobbery, receiving a sentence of one year. Directly an officer came, took him out of my cell and conducted him to another department. Allalone, I sat in my little parlor for nearly an hour, thinking over thepast. My reverie was at length broken by the turning of my door lock. Afresh arrival was told to "git in. " This prisoner had the appearance ofjust having been lassoed on the wild western prairies. He resembled acow-boy. His whiskers were long and sandy. His hair, of the same color, fell upon his shoulders. As soon as the officer had gone away andeverything had become quiet, I asked this fellow his name. "Horserider, "was his reply, from which I inferred that he was a horse-thief. "Howlong a term have you?" was my next question. "Seven years, " was hisreply. I comforted him by saying it would be some time before he rodeanother horse. 

The next part of the programme consisted in a little darkey coming infront of our cell with a rudely constructed barber's chair. The celldoor opened, and an officer said to me, as if he would hit me with aclub the next moment, "Git out of there. " I went out. Pointing to thebarber's chair, he said, "Squat yourself in that chair. " I sat down. "Throw back your head. " I laid it back. It was not long before my ravenmustache was off, and my hair cut rather uncomfortably short for flytime. After this tonsorial artist had finished his work then came thecommand once more, "Git in. " I got in. It now came Mr. Horserider's turnto bid a long farewell to his auburn locks. He took his place in thechair, and the little darkey, possibly for his own amusement, cut offthe hair on one side of the head and left the other untouched. He thenshaved one side of his face without disturbing the other. At this momentthe bell for dinner rang, and the little colored fellow broke away andran to his division, to fall in ranks, so that he would not miss hisnoon meal. Once more Mr. Horserider entered his cell and we were lockedin. A more comical object I never beheld; he did not even possess thebeauty of a baboon; he might certainly have passed for the eighth wonderof the world. When he came in I handed him the small looking-glass andasked him how he liked his hair-cut. Remember, one side of his head andface was shaved close, and the other covered with long sandy hair andbeard. Looking into the glass, he exclaimed: "Holy Moses! and who amI, anyway?" I answered his question by stating that he favored Mr. What-Is-It. He was very uneasy for a time, thinking that he was going tobe left in that condition. He wanted to know of me if all horse-thievesof the penitentiary wore their hair and whiskers in this style. Icomforted him all I could by imparting the information that they did. Hewas much relieved when the darkey returned after dinner and finished theshaving. 

I was next taken out of my cell to pass a medical examination. Dr. Mooney, the gentlemanly officer in charge of the hospital, put in anappearance with a large book under his arm and sat down by a table. Iwas ushered into his presence. He began asking me questions, andwrote down my answers in his book, which proved to be the physician'sregister. 

"Have you any decayed teeth?" was his first question, "No, sir, " was my reply. 

"Have you ever lost any teeth?"

"No, sir. "

"Have you ever had the measles?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Have you ever had the mumps?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Have you ever had the chicken-pox?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Have you ever had the thresh?"

Well, I didn't know what was meant by the thresh. I knew that I had been"thrashed" a great many times, and inferred from that fact that I musthave had the disease at some time or other in my youth, so I answered, "Yes, sir. "

"Have you ever had the itch?"

"What kind?" said I. "The old fashioned seven year kind? Y-e-s, sir, Ihave had it. "

He then continued asking me questions, and wanted to know if I everhad a great many diseases, the names of which I had never heard before. Since I catch almost everything that comes along, I supposed, of course, that at some period during my childhood, youth or early manhood I hadsuffered from all those physical ills, so I always answered, "Yes, sir. " He wound up by inquiring if I ever had a stroke of the horseglanders. I knew what was meant by that disease, and replied in thenegative. 

He then looked at me over the top of his spectacles, and, in a ratherdoubting manner, said, "and you really have had all these diseases? Bythe way, " he continued, "are you alive at the present moment after allthat you have suffered?" Mr. Mooney is an Irishman. He was having alittle cold-blooded sport at my expense. Whenever you meet an Irishmanyou will always strike a budget of fun. 

His next question was, "Are you a sound man?"

My reply was to the effect that I was, physically, mentally and morally. So he wrote down in his book opposite my name "physically and mentallya sound man. " He said he would take my word for being sound morally, butthat he would not put that down on the books for the present, for fearthere might be a mistake somewhere. Before discharging me, he calmlystated that I would make a good coal miner. All the prisoners undergothis medical cross-examination. 

After I had run the doctor's gauntlet, I was conducted from the southwing of the cell-house to the north wing. Here I met for the first timeMr. Elliott, who has charge of this building during the daytime. It isa part of this highly efficient officer's duty to cross-examine theprisoners as to where they have lived and what they have been doing. Hisexaminations are very rigid. He is a bright man, a good judge of humannature, and can tell a criminal at sight. He would make an able criminallawyer. He is the prison detective. By means of these examinations heoften obtains clues that lead to the detection of the perpetrators ofcrime. I have been told by good authority that on account of informationobtained by this official, two murderers were discovered in the Kansaspenitentiary, and, after their terms had expired, they were immediatelyarrested, and, on requisition, taken back to the Eastern States, wherethe crimes had been committed, and there tried, convicted and punishedaccording to the laws of those States. After I had been asked all mannerof questions by this official, he very kindly informed me that I came tothe penitentiary with a bad record. He further stated that I waslooked upon as one of the worst criminals in the State of Kansas. Thisinformation was rather a set-back to me, as I had no idea that I was inpossession of any such record as that. I begged of him to wait a littlewhile before he made up his mind conclusively as to my character, forthere might be such a thing as his being mistaken. There is no man thatis rendering more effective service to the State of Kansas in the way ofbringing criminals to justice than Mr. Elliott. He has been an officerof the prison for nearly nine years. As an honest officer he is abovereproach. As a disciplinarian he has no superior in the West. 

After this examination I was shown to my cell. It was now about twoo'clock in the afternoon of my first day in prison. I remained in thecell alone during the entire afternoon. Of all the dark hours of myeventful history, none have been filled with more gloom and sadnessthan those of my first day in prison. Note my antecedents--a collegegraduate, a county clerk, the president of a bank, and an editor ofa daily newspaper. All my life I had moved in the highest circles ofsociety, surrounded by the best and purest of both sexes, and now, hereI was, in the deplorable condition of having been hurled from that highsocial position, down to the low degraded plane of a convict. As I satthere in that desolate abode of the disgraced, I tried to look out downthe future. All was dark. For a time it seemed as if that sweet angel wecall hope had spread her wings and taken her departure from me forever. The black cloud of despair seemed settling down upon me. But very fewpersons possess the ability to make any thing of themselves after havingserved a term in the penitentiary. Having once fallen to so low a planeit is almost impossible to rise again. Young man, as you peruse thisbook, think of these things. Once down as a felon it is a miracle if oneever regains what he has lost. I sat brooding over these things for anhour or more, when my manhood asserted itself. Hope returned. I reasonedthus: I am a young man. I enjoy good health. There will be only a fewmonths of imprisonment and then I will be free. I thought of my lovingwife, my little children, my aged mother, my kind friends, and for theirsake I would not yield to despair. Soliciting the aid of a kind HeavenlyFather, I resolved to do the best I could toward regaining what I hadlost. My father was a minister of the gospel for fifty years prior tohis death. He was not blessed with much of this world's goods. For thisreason I began in very early life to aid myself. I spent seven yearsin college preparing for the struggles that awaited me. I earned everydollar of the money which paid my expenses while securing my education. I carried the hod to assist in building the college in which I afterwardgraduated. Few men can truthfully make this statement of themselves. While working my way through the institution where I received myeducation, I learned one useful lesson--self reliance. I learned todepend upon my own efforts for success. Every one must learn this usefullesson before he can become anything in life. After I had met withmisfortune and found myself in a prison cell, I was glad that I hadlearned to rely upon my own efforts. 

The question: "What shall I do in the future?" now came to me. Thatafternoon I laid my plans which I would carry out out in the years tocome. I was financially ruined in the great battle I carried on withthe Atchison ring. I was aware of the fact that, when I got out of thepenitentiary, all the money that I would have with which to make anotherstart in life would be five dollars. The United States presents herprisoners, when discharged, with a suit of citizen's clothes and fivedollars. This was my capital. What could I do with five dollars, inthe way of assisting me in getting another financial foot-hold in life?After my release it was necessary for me to do something at once to getmoney. It never entered my mind to borrow. It will be interesting tothe reader to know what I did, after my prison days were past, to makea "quick raise. " Sixteen months of imprisonment slipped away. I regainedmy liberty on Monday. I received my five dollars and immediately startedfor my home, in Atchison. On my arrival, Monday night, I had fourdollars and ten cents. On Tuesday morning I went to the proprietor ofthe Opera House, in Atchison, and inquired how much money was necessaryto secure the use of the building for the next evening. "Fiftydollars, " was his reply. I gave him all the money I had, and persuadedhim to trust me for the rest. I informed him that I was going to delivera lecture on my prison life. He asked if I thought anybody would come tohear a convict talk. In answer, I told him that was the most importantquestion that was agitating my mind at the present moment, and if hewould let me have the use of the Opera House we would soon settle thatquestion. I further told him that if the receipts of the evening werenot enough to pay him for the use of the house, that I would pay him assoon as possible. He let me have the use of the house. I advertised inthe daily papers of the city that I would lecture in the Opera House thefollowing evening on my prison life, --admission fifty cents. I thoughtif the good people wanted to come at all they would come even if theyhad to pay well for it. I was very restless from the morning that Iengaged the Opera House until the next evening, at which time I was tospeak. I did not know whether I would have any audience. If not, I wasfifty dollars deeper in debt. The evening for the lecture came, I wentto the Opera House prepared to interest anyone that might put in anappearance; I entered the building in the rear, and took my position onthe platform. The signal was given and up went the curtain. I was highlypleased when I saw my audience. The building was packed. The lecture wasa financial success. In this manner I secured a nice "stake" for futureuse. I delivered that lecture for several weeks in Kansas, and made athousand dollars above expenses. To return to my first afternoon inthe cell. I thought of another scheme. I conceived the idea that a bookabout, a penitentiary, giving its history, and also the history of manyof the leading criminals, modes of punishment, escapes, etc. , would bevery interesting, and would sell. I decided to write such a book whilein prison. In order to write a book it became necessary to havewriting material. How was I to secure this? It was against the prisonregulations for a prisoner to have a lead-pencil or scrap of paper. Theofficials were very strict on this point. It was essential they shouldbe. If the prisoners could pass notes, it would not be long before aprison insurrection would be the result. The plan that I adopted tosecure writing material was rather unique, and perhaps the reader willlike to know how I managed this difficult matter. It is wonderful what aman can accomplish, with adverse surroundings, if he wills it. As I havestated before, I had much to do in securing the election of Hon. W. D. Gilbert to the district judgeship. This made him feel very kind towardme. He came often to visit me at the prison. One day while visiting me, I asked him to use his influence with the warden to secure for me theprivilege of having writing material in my cell. "What do you want withwriting material, " said he. The answer I gave was, that I might passaway my leisure hours in learning to write short-hand. He called onWarden Smith, and got his consent. He told the warden that if I wouldmaster this useful art while in prison, on my release, he would appointme his district court reporter, at a salary Of $2, 500 a year. The schemewas a success. I sent and got my short-hand books and writing material. I mastered short-hand, and can now write as fast as one would care todictate. It was not long before I began writing my book in short-hand. The officials, as was their custom, would examine my cell daily to seeif anything had crept in that did not belong there. They could not readshort-hand. They did not know what so many little straight marks andcurves indicated. I persevered, and one month before my time expiredI had my book completed, and sent it out by a friend who visited theprison, who kept it for me until I secured my liberty. As before stated, I lectured until I got money sufficient, and then I published my firstbook on prisons, giving it the impressive title of "A Kansas Hell. " Thisbook sold rapidly, and soon the first edition was disposed of. I madeenough money out of this book to place me on my feet, financially. But, to return to my cell the first afternoon. I remained alone until timefor the prisoners to come in from their work, when I found that I was tohave a "life man" for my cell-mate, whose name was Woodward R. Lopeman. I have given his history in a subsequent chapter. I remained in my cellduring the evening, until the prison bell rang for retiring. Strange tosay, after going to bed, I soon fell asleep, and did not awake until theprison bell rang on the following morning. When I did awake, it was tofind myself, not in my own pleasant little home in the city of Atchison, Kansas, but in a felon's cell. I arose and dressed, and then waited andwondered what would be the next thing on the programme. 

CHAPTER II. THE COAL MINES

I was next taken to the coal mines. These mines are located just outsideof the prison enclosure, and are surrounded by high stone walls andstone buildings, which, by their location, take the place of walls. Thecoal yards are separated from the prison campus by a partition wall, which constitutes the south wall of the coal department and the northwall of the prison. 

Passing from one of these departments to the other, through a largegateway, the gate being kept by a convict, an old man who murdered hisson, and who has a life sentence. Reader, how would you like to spendyour entire life, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, in the monotonous employment of opening and closing alarge gate? When my escort and myself reached the mines, I was placedin charge of Mr. Dodds, the official in control of the mines at thesurface. Mr. Dodds is a very competent officer, and has been on duty atthat place more than twenty years. From this officer I received a miningcap. This piece of head-wear was turban-shaped, striped, of course, witha leather frontlet, on which was fastened the mining lamp. This lamp, inshape, resembled an ordinary tea-pot, only it was much smaller. In placeof the handle was a hook, which fastened to the leather frontlet. Thebowl of the lamp contained the oil; a wick passes up through the spout, at the end of which is the light. The miner carrying his lamp inthis position has it out of his way. With the cap on my head and lamplighted, I stood on the verge of a ten by twelve hole in the earth, thatwas almost eight hundred feet deep. We think that a well one hundredfeet deep is quite a distance down into the ground, but here was ahole eight times deeper. In the mining vernacular this hole is termed ashaft--the term that will be employed in speaking of it hereafter. Thereare two of these shafts, about one hundred yards apart. Each shaft isdivided by a wooden partition which descends from the top to the bottom. Two elevators, or cages, as they are called, ascend and descend alongthe shaft. While one cage is coming up the other is going down. Theyderive their motor power from two large engines, one for each shaft. Theofficer in charge inquired, before making my descent into the mines, ifI ever fainted. "Never, " was my reply. Persons sometimes faint in goingdown this shaft. "Step into the cage, " was the order given. I obeyed, and, reaching up, took hold of some iron bars that went across the top. The signal was given, down I started. After I had descended a few feeta current of air coming up from below put out my light, which left me inthe darkness of an Egyptian night. Down, down, down I went. There are agreat many things in life that I have forgotten. There are a great manymore that I expect to forget, but that first ride down the coal shaftI never can forget. Thug! I had struck bottom. It is said that whenone starts down hill in this world he keeps on going until he strikesbottom. My readers will certainly agree with me that reaching a restingplace eight hundred feet under the surface I had found the lowest roundof the ladder. Whatever I may be in the future, to whatever heightsI may ascend, I shall not forget that my starting point was nearly athousand feet under the Kansas penitentiary. Water seeks its level. Youmay force one below the surface, and to whatever depth you please, tothe extent of your power, but if he does not belong there, you cannotkeep him down: in the course of time he will rise. 

It was six long, dreary months before I was able to reach the firstround in the ladder. Through that period I lay in the penitentiarymines, or at the bottom of "The Kansas Hell. " It is said the oldfashioned Hell has fire and brimstone; while the "Kansas Hell" has nofire, one thing is certain, it has plenty of material out of which tomake it, and an abundant supply of sulphur. 

At the end of my descent I found an officer there on duty. He told meto step off and occupy a seat on a small bench near by. He desiredto impart some information. He advised me that while I was there, aconvict, it would not be proper to assume the warden's privileges orendeavor to discharge his duties. In other words, the best thing to dowas to keep my place, revolve about in my own orbit, carefully regardingall laws, both centripetal and centrifugal; otherwise, I might burst bythe natural pressure of too highly confined interior forces! I confessthat, though not subject to such infliction, I very nearly fainted overthese ponderous polysyllables! He also informed me that the beautifullypaved highway to popularity in the coal mines was to excavate largequantities of the carboniferous substance contained in the subterraneanpassages of the mine; the more coal I got out the more popular would Ibe!

After his lecture was over the officer gave a low whistle, and out froma dark recess there emerged a convict in his stripes. His face and handswere covered with coal dust. He came out grinning, showing his whiteteeth. As I caught sight of him I thought, surely, this is a fiend fromthe lower regions. Take one of those prisoners with his striped clothes, a light burning on his head, his face black and shining like ebony, behold him in the weird darkness of the mines, and if he does not callto your mind the picture of one of the imps of Eternal Night thereis nothing in this world that will. This prisoner was the runner ormessenger for this officer at the foot of the shaft. Each officer in thepenitentiary who has charge of a division of men has a messenger to runerrands for him. When this messenger came up to the officer he made hisobeisance. Convicts are taught to observe good manners in the presenceof the officials. He was told to take me to another officer in a distantpart of the mines, a Mr. Johns, who would give me work. From the foot ofthe shaft there go out in almost all directions, roadways or "entries. "These underground roadways are about six feet in width and height. Icould walk erect in most of them. Along these entries was a car track, over which the small coal cars pass to and from the rooms where the coalis taken out, to the shaft, and hoisted to the top with their load ofcoal. Some of these entries extend more than a mile out into the earthfrom the base of the shaft. As my fellow-prisoner and I were passingalong one of these roadways to the place where I was to work, he askedme my name and the nature of my offense. At this place let me inform, the reader that the prisoners are given permission to converse with eachother in the mines. Their instructions are to the effect that they arenot to talk about anything but their work, but in the penitentiary thesame rule holds good as on the outside: "Give a man an inch and he willtake a yard. " So, when permission is given to the convict to talk abouthis work, he talks about everything else. In answer to my escort'squestion as to the length of my sentence, I informed him that I hadeighteen months. He dryly remarked that was nothing, and if the judgewho sent me up could not give me a longer term than that, he should havesent me home to my family. He also remarked that he was afraid I wouldget into trouble in the mines on account of my short sentence. Therewere a great many long-term fellows down there, who were envious ofshort-term men, and were likely to put up jobs on them by reportingtheir mistakes and violations of regulations to the officer in charge, and thus get them punished. I informed my guide that I thought I wouldget along some way with the prisoners, and keep out of trouble. I theninquired of him as to the length of his sentence. 

"Twenty-five stretches, " was his reply. I did not know what he meant bythe term "stretches" and asked for information. "That is the prison termfor years, a stretch meaning a year, " was his reply. I learned that mycompanion, having twenty-five stretches, was carrying about with him atwenty-five years' sentence. A quarter of a century in prison! This wasa young man. He had been in the prison for three years. When he enteredthis living tomb he had the bloom of youth upon his cheek. When he goesout, at the end of his term, if he lives so long, he will be an old, broken down man. He will not be likely to live that long. The averagelife of a convict is but fourteen years under the most favorablesurroundings, but in the coal mines it cannot exceed five years at most. 

Let me tell you of this man's crime, and then you can determine foryourself how easy it is to get in the penitentiary. This young fellow isthe son of one of the most respectable farmers in the State. He attendeda dance one night in company with some of the neighbor boys at a villagenear by. While there, he got under the influence of strong drink, becameinvolved in a quarrel over one of the numbers with the floor managers, and in the fight that ensued he drew his knife and disemboweled the manwith whom he was fighting. In a few moments the wounded man died. The young fellow was tried, convicted of murder, and sent to thepenitentiary for twenty-five years at hard labor. It is awful tocontemplate. Young man, as you read this, had you not better makeup your mind to go rather slow in pouring whisky down your throat infuture?

As we passed along through the mines I thought about that word"stretch, " and as I did not like the idea of having jobs put up on me, came to the conclusion that I would render myself popular by telling theprisoners in the mines who might ask me as to my sentence, that I hadeighteen "stretches. " I did not think that calling a month a "stretch"would be "stretching" my conscience to such a degree as to cause meany particular distress, for I knew that by the time I had served out amonth it would seem equivalent to a year on the outside. 

After following along the entry for some distance, almost a mile, wecame to that portion of the mines where I was to work. Coming up to theplace where the officer was seated, the headquarters of this division, my guide made a low bow, and informed the officer in charge that he hadbrought him a man. Then bowing himself out, he returned to his place atthe foot of the shaft. 

The officer in whose division I was to work now signaled his messenger, and there came out of the darkness another convict, stripes, cap, lampand all. 

"Get Reynolds a set of mining tools, " said the officer. 

These were soon brought, and consisted of a pick, a short-handledshovel, two iron wedges and a sledge hammer. 

"Take him, " said the officer, "to room number three, and tell GeorgeMullen, who is working in that room, to teach him how to mine. "

I got my arms around those implements of coal warfare, and following myescort, passed along the entry for some distance, possibly two hundredyards, when the roadway in which we were walking suddenly terminated, and instead, there was a small hole that went further on into the earth. When we came to this place my guide dropped down on his hands and kneesand passed into the room. I halted. I had never been in such a placebefore. I did not know what there was in that dark hole. Soon my escortcalled out, "Come along, there is nothing in here to hurt you. " So Idropped down on my hands and knees and into the dark hole I went. 

These rooms where the miners work are about twenty-eight inches inheight, twenty-four inches wide, and about fifty feet long. Think ofworking in such a place as that! Oh, how often have I sighed for roomenough to spread myself! How I would have made that coal fly had thevein been on top where I could have stood on my feet and mined. GeorgeMullen, the convict who was to teach me to mine, was at the farther endof the room at work when we entered. We crawled on our hands and kneesto him, and when my guide had delivered his message he withdrew andhastened back to his headquarters near the stand where his officer sat. 

After he had gone and my room-mate and myself were left alone, about thefirst question that George asked me was, "How long have you got?"

"Eighteen stretches, " was my quick reply. 

George loved me dearly from that moment. I very soon discovered that Iwas very popular with him on account of my long sentence. 

"How long are you in for?" said I to him. 

"Always, " was his answer. 

He was a life prisoner. At one time he was marshal of a Kansas town, andwhile acting in that capacity he killed his man. He was trying to arresthim, so he informed me, and the fellow showed fight, when he tookout his gun and shot him. It was claimed by the authorities that theshooting was unprovoked, and that the man could have been arrestedwithout killing him. Aside from the fact that he had killed his man, Imust say that I never met a man for whom I had a higher regard. He wasvery kind to me, very patient, and made my work as easy for me as hepossibly could. I remained with him for nearly a month, when, havinglearned the business, I was taken to another part of the mines and givena task. 

"Have you ever mined any?" inquired my instructor. 

"No; I never was in a coal mine before coming here. "

He then gave me my first lesson in mining. I lay on my right side inobedience to his orders, stretched out at full length. The short-handledshovel was inverted and placed under my right shoulder. This lifted myshoulder up from the ground a little distance and I was thus enabledto strike with my pick. The vein of coal is about twenty-two inches inthickness. We would mine out the dirt, or fire-clay as it was called, from under the coal to the distance of two feet, or the length of apick-handle, and to the depth of some six inches. We would then set ouriron wedges in above the vein of coal, and with the sledge hammerwould drive them in until the coal would drop down. Imagine my forlorncondition as I lay therein that small room. It was as dark down thereas night but for the feeble light given out by the mining lamp; the roomwas only twenty-eight inches from the floor to the ceiling, and thenabove the ceiling there were eight hundred feet of mother earth. Twofeet from the face of the coal, and just back of where I lay whenmining, was a row of props that held up the roof and kept it fromfalling in upon me. The loose dirt which we picked out from under thecoal vein was shoveled back behind the props. This pile of dirt, inmining language, is called the "gob. " I began operations at once. Iworked away with all my might for an hour or more, picking out the dirtfrom under the coal. Then I was tired completely out. I rolled over onmy back, and, with my face looking up to the pile of dirt, eight hundredfeet thick, that shut out from me the light of day, I rested for awhile. I had done no physical work for ten years. I was physically soft. Toput me down in the mines and set me to digging coal was wicked. It wasmurder. Down in that dark pit how I suffered! There was no escape fromit. There was the medicine. I had to take it. I do not know, but itseems to me that when a man is sent to that prison who has not been inthe habit of performing physical labor, he should not be put to workin the mines until he becomes accustomed to manual labor. It would seemthat it would be nothing more than right to give him an easier task atfirst and let him gradually become hardened to his work at coal digging. Nothing of this kind is done. The young, the old, the middle-aged areindiscriminately and unceremoniously thrust into the mine. Down thereare nearly five hundred prisoners. Among them are boys from seventeen totwenty years of age, many of whom are in delicate health. Here are tobe found old men, in some cases sixty years of age. I do not wish tobe understood as casting any reflections upon the officers of thisinstitution. They cannot help these things. If Warden Smith could avoidit there would not be a single man sent down to that region of death. The mines are there and must be worked. Let this blame fall where itbelongs. I must say injustice to our common humanity, that to work thesetwo classes, the boys and old men, in those coal mines is a burningshame and outrage. It is bad enough, as the sequel will show, to putable-bodied, middle-aged men to work in that pit. The great State ofKansas has opened those mines. Her Legislature has decided to have themworked. It becomes the duty, therefore, of the prison directors to workthem as long as they are instructed to do so, even if scores of humanbeings are maimed for life or murdered outright each year. The blamecannot rest on the prison officials, but upon our lawmakers. 

CHAPTER III. THE COAL MINES (Continued)

After we had mined some twenty-five feet we took down the coal. To dothis the wedges are set and driven in at the top of the vein of coal, with the sledge hammer. After my companion had struck the coal severaltimes it began to pop and crack as if it would fall at any moment. Ibecame alarmed. I was never in such a place before, and I said: "George, had I not better get out of this place? I don't want the coal to fall onme the first day. " His reply was, that if I wanted to learn how to mineI must remain near the coal and take my chances of being killed. Thiswas indeed comforting! Then he informed me that he was going to knock onthe coal and wanted me to catch the sound that was produced. He thumpedaway, and I got the sound--a dull, heavy thud. Now, says he, "when coalsounds in that manner it is not ready to drop. " So he continued to poundaway at it. The more he pounded the more the coal cracked and the morealarmed I became. I was afraid it would drop at any moment and crush me. I begged of him to cease pounding until I got into the entry out of theway of danger. He tried to make me believe there was no danger. I washard to convince of that fact. There I lay stretched out on my side nextto the coal, he driving in the wedges, and the coal seeming to me tobe ready to drop at each stroke of the hammer. "Now listen, " saidhe, "while I knock on the coal once more. " I listened. The sound wasaltogether different from the first. "Now, " said he, "the coal is aboutready to fall. " It is necessary for the miner to know this part of hisbusiness. It is by the sound that he determines when it is ready tofall. If he is ignorant of this part of his work, he would be in greatdanger of getting killed from the coal falling unexpectedly. "Well, "said I, "if this coal is about ready to drop, had I not better get outof here into the entry, so that I may be out of danger?" "No, " was hisreply; "just crawl up behind that row of props and remain in the 'gob'until after the coal falls. " In obedience to his command I cheerfullygot up behind the props and embraced that pile of dirt. He struck thewedges a few more blows and then darted behind the props out of danger. No sooner had he got out of the way than the coal came thundering down. "Now, " said my room-mate "go out into the entry and bring in the buggy. ""All right. " And out I went on my hands and knees. I soon found my wayinto the entry, but found no buggy; so back I crawled into the room andreported. At this my instructor crawled out to see what had become ofthat singular vehicle known as a mining buggy. I followed after. I didnot want to remain behind in that coal mine. I did not know what mighthappen should I be left there in that dark hole alone. After we hadreached the entry where we could stand erect my teacher pointed to anobject which lay close to our feet, and said to me, "Man, where are youreyes?" "In my head, " I calmly replied. "Do you see that thing there?""Of course I see that thing. " "Well, that is the buggy. " "Indeed!" Iexclaimed. "I am certainly glad to know it, for I never would have takenthat for a buggy. " It had a pair of runners which were held in theirplaces by a board being nailed across them. On this was a small box; atone end there was a short iron handle. On our knees we pushed the buggyinto the room, took up the hammer, broke up the coal into lumps wecould handle, filled up the small box, dragged it out into the entry andemptied it into a heap. This is called "buggying" coal. It is the mostlaborious part of mining. Whenever a new man would be placed with theconvicts for instructions in mining he would have to buggy coal just aslong as it was possible to get him to do so. After a time, however, hewould want to take turn about with his teacher. 

After we had finished getting out what we had down the noon hour hadarrived. At certain places in the entries or roadways there are largewooden doors which, when shut, close up the entire passage. These doorsare for the regulations of the currents of air which pass through themines. The loud noise produced by pounding on one of these doors wasthe signal for dinner. It was now noon. Bang, bang, bang, bang, went thedoor. I had now put in one-half day of my sentence in the mines. Oh! themany long, dreary, monotonous days I passed after that! At the call fordinner the convict, ALWAYS HUNGRY, suddenly drops his tools and makeshis way at a rapid pace along the entry until he comes to the placewhere the division officer has his headquarters. Arriving at this placeeach convict takes his position in a line with his fellow-convicts. All talking now ceases. They sit on the ground while eating, with theirlower limbs crossed. There are no soft cushioned chairs on which thetired prisoner may rest his weary limbs. When seated, a small piece ofpine board, about a foot square, is placed across his knees. This isthe table. No table cloth, no napkins, no table linen of any kind. Sucharticles as these would paralyze a convict! Thus seated in two rowsalong the sides of the entry, with their mining lamps lighted andhanging in their caps, they present a weird and interesting sight. Thedinner had been brought down from the top about an hour before on coalcars. Three of the prisoners are now detailed to act as waiters. Onepasses down between the two rows of convicts, carrying in his hand awooden pail filled with knives and forks. These culinary instrumentshave iron handles. Were they made of wood or horn, the convicts wouldsoon break off the handles and make trinkets out of them. This waiter, passing along, drops a knife and fork on each table. He is followed byanother who drops down a piece of corn bread; then another with a pieceof meat for each man, which he places on the pine board. There is no"Please pass the meat, " or "Hand over the bread. " Not a word is spoken. After the knives and forks have been passed around this waiter returnsand gives each man a quart of water. THIS IS DINNER. The bill of fare isregular, and consists of cold water, corn bread and meat. Occasionallywe have dessert of cold cabbage, or turnips or cracked corn. When wehave these luxuries they are given to us in rotation, and a day alwaysintervenes between cabbage and turnips. In the coal mines the prisonernever washes himself before eating. Although he gets his hands and faceas black as the coal he has been digging, yet he does not take time towash himself before eating. Reader, how would you like to dine in thiscondition? The old saying is, we must all eat our "peck of dirt. " Ithink I have consumed at least two bushels and a half! I can neverforget my first meal in the mines. I was hungry, it was true, but Icouldn't manage to eat under the circumstances. I sat there on theground, and in silence watched the other prisoners eat. I thought, "You hogs! I can never get so hungry as to eat as you are now eating. "In this I was mistaken. Before ten days had gone by I could eat alongwith any of them. The first day I thought I would do without my dinner, and when supper time came go to the top and enjoy a fine meal. Iimagined that after digging coal all day they would surely give us agood meal in the evening. My mouth "watered" for some quail on toast, ora nice piece of tenderloin, with a cup of tea. Think of my surprise, when hoisted to the top at the close of day, after marching into thedining-room and taking our places at the table, when I saw all that wasput before the prisoners was a piece of bread, a cup of tea withoutsugar or milk, and two tablespoonfuls of sorghum molasses. It did notrequire a long time for me to dispose of the molasses, as I was veryhungry, and handed up my cup for an additional supply; this was refused. It is considered in the penitentiary an excess of two tablespoonfuls ofsorghum is unhealthy! There is danger of its burning out the stomach! Soat each supper after that I had to get along with two spoonfuls. As faras the tea was concerned, it was made of some unknown material whosearoma was unfamiliar to my olfactory; the taste was likewise unfamiliar, and in consequence of these peculiarities of the prison tea I neverimbibed of it but the one time, that being amply sufficient to lastthrough the entire period of my confinement. From that day on I tookcold water, which, after all, is God's best beverage for the human race. The penitentiary, so far as I know, is the only place in the State ofKansas where prohibition actually works prohibition as contemplated bythe laws of the State! There are no "joints" in the Pen. No assistantattorney generals are necessary to enforce prohibition there. I neversaw a drunken man in the prison. The Striped Temperance Society ofKansas is a success. 

For breakfast in the prison we have hash, bread, and a tin cup ofcoffee, without sugar or milk; no butter, no meat. The hash is made ofthe pieces of bread and meat left over from the preceding day. We had itevery day in the year for breakfast. During my entire time in the prisonI had nothing for breakfast but hash. One day I was talking to an oldmurderer who had been there for eighteen years, and he told me he hadeaten hash for his breakfast during his entire term--six thousand fivehundred and seventy days. I looked at the old man and wondered to myselfwhether he was a human being or a pile of hash, half concluding that hewas the latter!

In conversation with the chaplain of the prison I received the followinganecdote, which I will relate for the benefit of my readers. It iscustomary in the prison, after the Sunday exercises, for such asdesire to remain and hold a sort of class meeting, or, as some call it, experience meeting. In one of these, an old colored man arose, and said:"Breddren, ebber since Ize been in dis prison Ize been tryin' to git deblessin'; Ize prayed God night and day. Ize rascelled wid de Almighty'till my hips was sore, but Ize nebber got it. Some sez its la'k obfaith. Some its la'k of strength, but I b'l'eves de reason am on 'countob de quality ob dis hash we hab ebbery day!"

Accidents are occurring almost daily. Scarcely a day passes but whatsome man receives injuries. Often very severe accidents happen, andoccasionally those which prove fatal. Many men are killed outright. These accidents are caused by the roof of the little room in which theminer works falling in upon him, and the unexpected drop of coal. Ofcourse there are many things that contribute to accidents, such as badmachinery, shafts, dirt rolling down, landslides, etc. 

One day there was a fellow-prisoner working in the room adjoining me; hecomplained to the mining boss that he did not want to go into thatroom to work because he thought it was dangerous. The officer in chargethought differently, and told him to go in there and go to work or hewould report him. The prisoner hadn't been in the place more than a halfhour before the roof fell and buried him. It took some little time toget him out. When the dirt was removed, to all appearances he was dead. He was carried to the hospital on a stretcher, and the prison physician, Doctor Neeally, examined him, and found that both arms were broken intwo places, his legs both broken, and his ribs crushed. The doctor, who is a very eminent and successful surgeon, resuscitated him, set hisbroken bones, and in a few weeks what was thought to be a dead man, wasable to move about the prison enclosure, although one of his limbs wasshorter than the other, and he was rendered a cripple for life. 

On another occasion a convict was standing at the base of the shaft. Theplumb-bob, a piece of lead about the size of a goose egg, accidentallyfell from the top of the shaft, a distance of eight hundred feet, and, striking this colored man on the head, it mashed his skull, andbespattered the walls with his brains. 

I had three narrow escapes from death. One day I lay in my little roomresting, and after spending some time stretched out upon the ground, I started off to another part of my room to go to work, when all of asudden the roof fell in, and dropped down just where I had been lying. Had I remained a minute longer in that place, I would have been killed. As it happened, the falling debris just struck my shoe as I was crawlingout from the place where the material fell. 

At another time I had my room mined out and was preparing to take downthe coal. I set my wedges in a certain place above the vein of coal andbegan to strike with my sledge hammer, when I received a presentimentto remove my wedges from that place to another. Now I would not havethe reader believe that I was in any manner superstitious, but I was soinfluenced by that presentiment that I withdrew my wedges and set themin another place; then I proceeded to strike them a second time with thesledge hammer, when, unexpectedly, the vein broke and the coal felljust opposite to where my head was resting, and came within an inch ofstriking it. Had I remained in the place where I first set my wedges, the coal would have fallen upon me; it had been held in its place by apiece of sulphur, and when it broke, it came down without giving me anywarning. 

On still another occasion, my mining boss came to my room and directedme to go around to another part of the mine and assist two prisoners whowere behind with their work. I obeyed. I hadn't been out of my room morethan about half an hour when there occurred a land-slide in it, whichfilled the room entirely full of rock, slate and coal. It requiredseveral men some two weeks to remove the amount of debris that hadfallen on that occasion. Had I been in there, death would have beencertain at that time. 

Gentle reader, let me assure you, that although some personsmisunderstanding me, assert that I am without belief in anything, yetI desire to say, when reflecting upon these providential deliverances, that I believe in the Eternal Will that guides, directs, controls andprotects the children of men. While many of my fellow-prisoners weremaimed for life and some killed outright, I walked through that valleyand shadow of death without even a hair of my head being injured. Whywas this? My answer is the following: Over in the State of Iowa, amongthe verdant hills of that beautiful commonwealth, watching the shadowsas they longer grow, hair whitened with the frosts of many seasons, heart as pure as an angel's, resides my dear old mother. I received aletter from her one day, and among other things was the following:

 "I love you now in your hour of humiliation and disgrace as I did when you were a prattling babe upon my knee. 

 * * *

 "I would also have you remember that every night before I retire to rest, kneeling at my bedside, I ask God to take care of and watch over my boy. "

Of the nine hundred convicts in the penitentiary not one of theirmothers ever forgot or deserted them. A mother's prayers always followher prodigal children. Go, gather the brightest and purest flowers thatbend and wave in the winds of heaven, the roses and lilies, the greenvine and immortelles, wreathe them in a garland, and with this crown thebrow of the truest of all earthly friends--Mother! Another reason I givefor my safe keeping in that hour of darkness and despair: In the city ofAtchison, on a bed of pain and anguish, lay my true, devoted and dyingwife. Every Sunday morning regularly would I receive a letter dictatedby her. Oh! the tender, loving words! "Every day, " said she, "I praythat God will preserve your life while working in the jaws of death. "The true and noble wife, the helpmeet of man, clings to him in the hourof misfortune and calamity as the vine clings to the tree when prostrateon the ground. No disgrace can come so shameful that it will cause thetrue wife to forsake. She will no more forsake than the true soldierwill desert on the battlefield. For those imps in human form thatendeavor to detract from the honor belonging to the wives of the countrythere ought to be no commiseration whatever. Let us honor the wifehoodof our native land. It is the fountain of all truth and righteousness, and if the fountain should become impure, all is lost. One morereason: Before I was sent to the prison I was an evangelist, and wasinstrumental in the hands of God of persuading hundreds of peopleto abandon a wicked life and seek the good. During my imprisonment Ireceived many letters from these men and women who had been benefited onaccount of what I had said to them, and they informed me that they stillretained confidence in me and were praying God for my deliverance. 

Now, I believe, in answer to a mother's prayers, in answer to theprayers of my sainted wife, in answer to the prayers of good men andwomen, who were converts to "the faith once delivered to the saints"under my earnest endeavors--in answer to all these prayers, God lent alistening ear and preserved me from all harm and danger. 

PATHETIC OCCURRENCES IN THE MINES

It is a great consolation for prisoners to receive letters from theirfriends. One day a convict working in the next room to me inquired if Iwould like to see a letter. I replied I would. He had just received onefrom his wife. This prisoner was working out a sentence of five years. He had been in the mines some two years. At home, he had a wife and fivechildren. They were in destitute circumstances. In this letter his wifeinformed him that she had been taking in washing for the support ofherself and children, and that at times they had to retire early becausethey had no fuel to keep them warm. Also, that, on several occasions, she had been compelled to put the children to bed without supper. Butthis noble woman stated to her husband that their lot was not so bad ashis. She encouraged him to bear up under his burdens, and that the timewould soon come when his sentence would expire and he would be permittedto return home again, and that the future would be bright once moreas it had been before the unfortunate circumstances that led to hisimprisonment. It was a good letter, written by a noble woman. A coupleof days after this, as I was mining, I heard a voice in the adjoiningroom. I listened. At first I thought it was the mining boss, but I soondiscovered I was mistaken. Listening again I came to the conclusionthat the convict who was working in the next room was becoming insane, afrequent occurrence in the mines. Many of the poor convicts being unableto stand the strain of years and the physical toil, languish and die inthe insane ward. To satisfy my curiosity, I took my mining lamp from mycap, placed it on the ground, covered it up as best I could with somepieces of slate, and then crawled up in the darkness near where hewas. I never saw such a sight as was now presented to me. Thisbroad-shouldered convict on his knees, with his frame bent over, hisface almost touching the floor of the room, was praying for his wife andchildren. Such a prayer I never heard before, nor do I expect to hearagain. His petition was something like the following:

"Oh, Heavenly Father, I am myself a wicked, desperate man. I do notdeserve any love or protection for my own sake. I do not expect it, but for the sake of Jesus do have mercy on my poor wife and helplesschildren. "

I have been able, many times in my life, to spend an hour or more in theprayer circle, and, unmoved, could listen to the prayers of the childrenof God. But I could not remain there in the darkness and listen to sucha prayer as that going forth from the lips of that poor convict; so Iglided back through the darkness into my own room, and left him therealone, pleading with his Creator for his lone and helpless ones at home. 

Reader, did God listen to the wails of that poor heart-strickenprisoner? Yes! yes! yes! For though a prodigal, sinful child, yet he isstill a child of the universal Father. Who of us dare excommunicate him?What frail mortal of passing time would dare lift up his hand and say, this poor wanderer is forgotten of his God?

What a glorious privilege is communion with God. What a sweetconsolation to know God hears, though we may be far removed from thedear ones we love. And who can tell the glorious things that have beenwrought by the wonderful Father of the race by that strong lever ofprayer. How often has the rough ways of life been made smooth. How oftendo we fail to credit the same to the kind intercession of friends withthe Father of us all. 

But to continue, it often happens that in the coal mines, persons, no longer able to sustain the heavy load that is placed upon them ofremaining in prison for a long time, give way, and they become ravingmaniacs. One day a prisoner left his room, and crawling out on his handsand knees into the entry, sat down on a pile of coal and commenced tosing. He had a melodious voice, and these were the words, the firststanza of that beautiful hymn:

 "Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly. "

After he had completed the first stanza two of the officers came to himand directed him to go back into the room to work. He replied that hedid not have to work; that he had religion, and that when a man hadreligion he did not have to work. Said he, "We are now going to havea prayer meeting, and" addressing one of the officers, "you you willplease lead us in prayer. " The officer replied, "I don't pray in coalmines; I pray above the surface so that God can hear. " At this theinsane convict picked up a large piece of coal and was going to hurl itafter him, and threatened that if he did not get on his knees and go topraying he would compel him to do so. While he was thus addressingone officer the other slipped around in his rear and striking his armknocked the piece of coal out of his hand. Then the officers seized him, one on each side, and forced him to go with them down the roadways tothe shaft, from whence he was taken to the top and placed in the insaneward, where he remains at this writing. As he was passing down theentries, away in the distance we heard him singing--

 "Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on Thee. Leave, oh leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me. "

I can never forget the impression made upon me as those words rang downthrough the dark passages, coming from the lips of that insaneconvict as they led him away from the confinement of the mines to theconfinement of insanity. How true those beautiful words were in hiscase!

THE COAL MINES A COLLEGE OF INFAMY

The mines of this Penal institution are a college for the educationand graduation of hardened criminals, and for illustration, and theinstruction of those not familiar with the subject matter referred to, I will relate what came under my personal observation, and some thingsthat I heard while in there. One day, in company with me while engagedin mining, were two other convicts. One of these was a hardened oldcrook. He was serving out a term on the charge of making and passingcounterfeit money. The other fellow-convict was a young man seventeenyears of age--a mere boy. Tired of mining, we laid off awhile, resting. During this time the old convict gave us instructions in the mannerof making counterfeit money. He told us how he would construct hiscounterfeit molds out of plaster paris, which he would use in the samemanner that bullet molds are used. He would purchase some britannicametal. On some dark night he would go into the forest, build up a fire, melt the metal, pour the melted liquor into the molds, and in thismanner make silver dollars. He informed us that it didn't take very longto make a hatful of money. A few days thereafter this young man, who waswith us in the room at the time, informed me that when he went out againinto the world, if he was unable to secure work, he would try his handat making counterfeit money. I advised him not to do this, as it wasalmost a certainty that he would be detected. He thought differently. About a month thereafter he was released from the prison. He went outinto the world, and, unable to obtain work, DID try his hand at makingcounterfeit money. Shortly before my time expired here came this youngman to prison again, with a sentence of three years at hard labor formaking and passing counterfeit money. He had received his criminalinstruction in the penitentiary mines, the result of which will be thathe will spend the greater portion of his life a convict. 

There are a great many instances where these young convicts, havingreceived their education in the coal mines, go into the world to becomehardened criminals. Down in this school of crime, in the midst of thedarkness, they learn how to make burglary tools, to crack safes, and tobecome expert as pickpockets; they take lessons in confidence games, and when their time expires they are prepared for a successful careerof crime. It is utterly impossible for the officers of the coal mines toprevent these men from conversing with each other. If these mines weresold, and the money obtained from the sale of them was used in buildingworkhouses on the surface, and these men placed at work there under thewatchful care of the official, they would then be unable to communicatewith each other, and would be saved from the debasing contamination ofthe hardened criminals. They would be saved from all this that degradesand makes heartless wretches. 

A scene occurred in the mines one day that illustrates the fact thatjudges sometimes, in their anxiety to enforce the laws, overstep thebounds of justice, and inflict excessive punishment and place burdensupon human beings which they are unable to bear. One afternoon in thecity of Emporia ten tramps were arrested and thrown into the countyjail. During the succeeding night one of these persons thrust a pokerinto the stove, and heating it red hot, made an effort to push the hotiron through the door, thus burning a large hole in the door-casing. The next morning the sheriff, entering the jail, perceiving what thisvagrant had done, was displeased, and tried to ascertain which one ofthe ten was guilty of the offense. The comrades of the guilty partyrefused to disclose the perpetrator of the act. Court was then insession. The sheriff had these ten fellows brought into court, hopingthat when placed upon the witness stand, under oath, they would tellwhich had committed the offense. Even in court they were true toeach other, and would not reveal the perpetrator. They were then allconvicted, and the judge passed a sentence of ten years upon each ofthese vagrants for that trivial offense. They came to the penitentiary. The day after their arrival they were all sent to the coal mines. Fortwo years they worked day after day down in the Kansas bastile. Onemorning, after they had been in the mines for two years, one of thenumber, at the breakfast table in the dining-room, unperceived secreteda knife in his clothing and carried it with him down to his place ofwork. He went into his little room and began the labors of the day. After toiling for a few hours he took a stone and sharpened his knifethe best he possibly could, then stepped out into the entry where hecould stand erect, and with his head thrown back drew that knife acrosshis throat, cutting it from ear to ear, thus terminating his life, preferring death to longer remaining in the mines of the Kansas Hell!Who is there that is not convinced of the fact that the blood of thissuicide stains the garments of the judge who placed this unbearableburden of ten years upon this young man, and who, I subsequentlylearned, was innocent of the offense. I would advise the good people ofLyons County, and of Emporia particularly, after they have perused thisbook, if they come to the conclusion that they have no better materialout of which to construct a district judge, to go out on the frontierand lassoo a wild Comanche Indian and bring him to Emporia and place himupon the ermined bench. I do not even know the name of this judge, butI believe, if I am correctly informed in this case, that his judgmentis deficient somewhere. But I must say in this connection, when thegood people of Lyons County heard of this suicide, they immediatelythereafter petitioned the Board of Pardons for the release of theseprisoners, and the board at once reported favorably upon their cases, and Governor Martin promptly granted their pardons and they werereleased from the prison. If the pardon had not been granted, others ofthem had resolved upon taking their lives as did their comrade. One ofthese prisoners was for a time a companion of mine in one of my miningrooms, and told me if he was required to remain in the coal minesdigging coal another three months he had made up his mind to follow theexample of his comrade, preferring death to the horrors of the mines. 

For the further information of the reader, as to the dread of theprisoners of work in the mines, I cite the following which I call torecollection. The gentlemanly physician of the institution, Dr. Neeally, told me that at four different times men had feigned death in the minesand had been carried on stretchers to the hospital; the particulars inone case is as follows: One of these men feigned death and was carriedto the hospital, and was reported by his comrades to be dead. He hadsuppressed his breathing. The physician felt his pulse, and finding itregular, of course knew he was simply endeavoring to deceive. In orderto experiment, the physician coincided with the statements of theattending convicts who had carried him from the mines, and announcedthat he would try electricity, and if he failed to restore him to lifehe would then have to bury him in the regular way. The doctor retiredfor the purpose of getting his electrical apparatus. In a few momentshe returned, bringing it with him, and placing the magnetic cups, one ineach hand, commenced generating the electricity by turning the generatorattached to the machine. After a few turns of the crank the prisoneropened his eyes; one or two more and he sat up; a few more and he stoodon his feet; another turn or two and he commenced dancing around, andexclaimed, "For God's sake, doctor, do quit, for I ain't dead, butI can't let loose!" Reader, what do you suppose was the object thisconvict had in view in thus feigning death? What did he hope to gainthereby? Being well acquainted with this prisoner, a few days after thedoctor had told me of the circumstances I met him, and asked him whatobject he had in feigning death the time that he was taken from themines to the hospital? His reply was that he hadn't the nerve to takehis own life, as he believed in a future state of punishment, andthat he did not desire to step from the Kansas Hell to the hell of thefuture, and that by feigning death he hoped to be taken to the hospital, placed in a coffin, then taken out to the prison graveyard, and buriedalive, so that he would suffocate in his grave!

There is not a man in those mines but would leave them quickly for aplace on the surface. 

I now call to mind one instance where a heart-broken father came tothe prison and offered one of the leading prison officials one thousanddollars if he would take his son out of the coal mines and give him aplace on the surface during the remainder of his term. A man who laborsin these mines simply spends his time, not knowing but the next hourwill be his last. 

As I have stated heretofore the prisoners are allowed to converse in themines, and as a result of this almost necessary rule, every convict hasan opportunity to listen to the vilest obscenity that ever falls uponhuman ears. At times, when some of these convicts, who seem veritableencyclopedias of wickedness, are crowded together, the ribald jokes, obscenity and blasphemy are too horrible for description. It is apandemonium--a miniature hell! But worse than this horrible flow oflanguage are the horrible and revolting practices of the mines. Men, degraded to a plane lower than the brutes, are guilty of theunmentionable crimes referred to by the Apostle Paul in his letter tothe Romans, chapter I, verse 27, which is as follows: "And likewise alsothe men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lustsone toward another, men with men, working that which is unseemly, andreceiving in themselves that recompense of their error which was meet. "Every opportunity is here offered for this vile practice. They are farremoved from the light and even from the influences of their officers, and in the darkness and silence old and hardened criminals debase andmistreat themselves and sometimes the younger ones that are associatedwith them in their work. These cases of self-abuse and sodomy are ofdaily occurrence, and, although the officials of the prison take everyprecaution to prevent such evil practices, yet, as a matter of fact, so long as prisoners are permitted to work in the mines it will beimpossible to break up these terribly degrading and debasing practices. Oh, Kansan! you that boast of the freedom and liberty, the strength ofyour laws, and the institutions in your grand young State, what do youthink of this disclosure of wickedness, equalling if not excellingthe most horrible things ever pictured by the divine teachers ofhumanity, --the apostles and their followers? A hint is only here given, but to the wise it will be sufficient, and but a slight exercise of theimaginative powers will be necessary to unfold to you the full meaningof this terrible state of affairs. 

It is believed by the writer that if the people of the State of Kansasknew under what circumstances men in the prison were compelled to work, there would be a general indignation, which would soon be expressedthrough the proper channels, and which might lead to a proper solutionof the difficulty. 

In many of the rooms of the mines there are large pools of water whichaccumulate there from dripping down from the crevices above; this, takenin connection with the natural damps of the mines, which increasesthe water, makes very large pools, and in these mud-holes convicts arecompelled to work and wallow about all day long while getting out theircoal, more like swine than anything else. How can this be in the lineof reformation, which, we are taught to believe outside of the prisonwalls, is the principal effort of all discipline within the prison. Theresult of work under such unfavorable circumstances is that many ofthe convicts contract rheumatism, neuralgia, pneumonia and other lungtroubles, and, of course, malaria. Many persons that enter these minesin good health come out physical wrecks, often to find homes in thepoor-houses of the land when their prison days are over, or die beforetheir terms expire. In the judgment of the writer the coal mines shouldbe sold; until that is done, prisoners who contract diseases there thatwill carry them to untimely graves should be pensioned by the State, andthus kept from spending the rest of their natural lives in some of thecountry poor-houses. 

Each person in the mines is assigned a task; he is required to get out acertain amount of coal each week. In case the convict fails to mine thetask that has been assigned him he must endure punishment, a descriptionof which will be given later on. It is the opinion of the author thatsomething should be done to remedy this. The young men from seventeento twenty, together with the old men from fifty to sixty, and thosesuffering from diseases, are often required to dig as much coal asmiddle-aged and able-bodied men. I have seen old men marching to theircells after a hard day's work scarcely able to walk, and many times haveI laid in the mines along with these young boys who would spend hourscrying like whipped children for fear they would be unable to getout their regular task of coal, and would therefore have to spend theSabbath in the dungeon, suffering unspeakable anguish. 

Because of the dangers to which the inmate is exposed; because of thedebasing influences by which lie is surrounded, it is wrong, it isWICKED to work our criminals in such a place as those mines of theKansas penitentiary. 

CHAPTER IV. THE PUNISHMENTS OF THE PRISON

The discipline of this institution is of the very highest character, and is unequaled in any similar institution of the United States. Theofficers are very watchful and strict. The inmates who work on thesurface are not permitted to converse with each other only within thehearing of an officer, and then only with regard to matters that pertainto work. The convict attends to his duties, observing the strictestsilence. When visitors pass about the prison the inmate is not permittedto lift up his head to gaze at them. Not even is he permitted to takea drink of water or to leave his place of work for anything without thepermission of the officer in charge. As soon as a criminal enters theprison and is clothed in stripes, a copy of the rules and regulationsis placed in his hands for perusal. If he cannot read, an officer readsthem to him. On the first day of his admission the prisoner receivescertain tickets, which are permits for privileges granted to him. Oneof these tickets allows him to have tobacco if he used the same beforecoming to the penitentiary; one allows him to receive visits from hisfriends; another to write a letter, monthly, to his relatives; and stillanother gives him the privilege to draw a book from the library, weekly. These privileges are highly appreciated by the prisoners. For the firstoffense in violation of any of the rules and regulations the refractoryprisoner is deprived of his ticket; and in extreme cases these ticketshave been kept from the prisoner for six months. To deprive the convictof his tobacco for a month or two, if he uses it, and many do, is asevere punishment. This kind of punishment is usually effectual insecuring good discipline. There are extreme cases, however, that requireseverer punishment. To meet this contingency, dungeons are provided. Astheir name implies, they are dark. They resemble an ordinary cell withthe exception of the door, which, in the common cell, contains openspaces for the admission of light; but the dark cell admits neitherlight nor a sufficient quantity of air. There is no furniture in thisdark cell. While undergoing punishment, if a prisoner desires to rest, he can do so by reclining on the stone floor. No refractory prisonerever grows corpulent while confined in these dark cells, as he onlyreceives one meal of bread and water in twenty-four hours! The prisoneris often kept in these cells from eight to ten days. Sleep is almostimpossible. When a prisoner enters the dungeon he is required to leavebehind him his coat, cap and shoes. During the winter months it is oftenvery cold in these cells, requiring the prisoner to walk up and downthe dungeon in his stocking feet to prevent his freezing, and this fora period of ten days, in nearly every instance compels submission. Afterthe dark cells thaw out, during the summer months, they are excessivelyhot. Sometimes in winter the temperature is below zero, and in summerit often rises to one hundred degrees. They are then veritable furnaces. Generally, after the prisoner undergoes the freezing or baking processfor eight or ten days, he is willing to behave himself in the future. They are sometimes so reduced and weak when brought out of the dark cellthat they can scarcely walk without aid. I have seen them reel to andfro like drunken men. They are often as pale as death. That in manycases the prisoner contracts cold which later on terminates fatally, isone of the principal objections to this mode of punishment. There is nodoubt that the dark cells of the Kansas Hell have hastened the death ofmany a poor, friendless convict. If a person in the mines does not getout his regular weekly task of coal, on Saturday night he is reportedto the deputy warden by the officer in charge, and is sent to theblind cell before supper, and is kept there until the following Mondaymorning, when he is taken out and sent to his work in the mines. Whilein there he gets only bread and water once in twenty-four hours. Thisis a great inducement to work; it certainly prevents criminals fromshirking their labor, and soon converts a lazy tramp into a rustlingcoal miner. There is one thing, however, that is connected with thissystem of punishment that I will criticise. The officer under whoseimmediate control the prisoner is placed fixes the period of hisconfinement in the dungeon. It gives the officer a good opportunity toabuse a prisoner he may dislike. These subordinate officers are not allangels. Some of them are lacking in sympathy. They have become hardened, and frequently treat their men like beasts. These persons should notpossess such a dangerous power. The warden or deputy warden shoulddecide the character as well as the period of punishment. 

If in this dark cell ten days and nights is insufficient to subdue therebellious spirit of the convict, he is taken out and placed in thesolitary cell. This is similar to the ordinary cell, with the exceptionthat it contains no furniture. Here the convict remains on bread andwater until he is starved almost to death, or until he is willing tosubmit and do his work as ordered. 

Another mode of punishment resorted to in a few cases, is even morebrutal than the dark cell. The obdurate prisoner is stripped naked andtied to a post. The hose which is connected with the water-works isturned upon his naked body. The water pressure is sixty pounds tothe square inch. As the water strikes the nude body the sufferingis intense. This mode of punishment is but rarely resorted to. It isexceedingly wicked and barbarous. It is a shame to treat a human beingin such a manner. There are many hardened criminals and desperatecharacters in the penitentiary, and it may sometimes be necessary toresort to extreme measures, but there have been many instances when, asit seemed to me, these excessive punishments might have been avoidedand still the good discipline of the prison maintained. "Blessed are themerciful, for they shall obtain mercy. " But the author would have yourecollect that the punishments of the Kansas penitentiary are not assevere as the discipline in her sister institutions. Many of theinmates of this prison who have formerly served terms in others of likecharacter, have shown him the scars and marks of brutal punishment. Oneof these poor unfortunates showed me his back, which is covered withgreat furrows in the flesh caused by the cat-o'-nine-tails in the handsof a merciless official of the Missouri penitentiary. Another prisonercarries thumbs out of joint and stiffened by the inhuman practice ofhanging up by the thumbs in vogue in a former place of imprisonment, and still another carries about with him ugly wounds inflicted bybloodhounds which overtook him when trying to escape from a Southernprison. 

The foregoing is a view of the punishments inflicted from a prisoner'sstandpoint. That the reader may arrive at just conclusions, I quote thestatements on the same subject made by the warden, Captain Smith, inhis able biennial report of last year. In doing so, I beg leave to statethat the convict who had ever been the object of the prison discipline, or who had spent his ten days and nights in one of those dismaldungeons, subsisting on bread and water, would readily say that thewarden had treated the subject in a manner "very mild. "

"The discipline has been carefully looked after, and as a general thingprisoners yield to strict discipline quicker than most people think. They seem to see and realize the necessity of rules, and very seldomcomplain, if they violate them, at the punishment that is sure tofollow. Our punishments are of such a character that they do notdegrade. Kansas, when she established her penitentiary, prohibitedcorporal punishment. She is one of the few States that by law prohibitsthe use of the whip and strap; taking the position that it is better touse kindness than to resort to brutal measures. I have often been told, and that, too, by old prison men, that it was impossible to run aprison and have first-class discipline without the whip. Such is notmy experience. We have had within our walls perhaps as desperate men asever received a sentence. We have controlled them, and have maintaineda discipline second to none in the country, How did we accomplish this?Our answer is, by being kind but firm; treating a man, although he maybe a prisoner, as a man. If he violates rules, lock him up. Give himan opportunity to commune with himself and his Maker; also give him tounderstand that he is the executioner of his own sentence, and when heconcludes that he can do right, release him. It matters not how vicious, how stubborn, or what kind of a temper he may have, when left with noone to talk to, and an opportunity to cool down, and with a knowledgethat when he comes to the conclusion that he will do better he can bereleased, he leaves the cell feeling much different than the prisonerwho leaves the whipping-post, after having received any number oflashes that a brutal officer may desire to inflict. One goes to hiswork cheerful, and determined to behave himself; the other dogged, revengeful, completely humiliated, and only lives in hope that he may atsome time take his revenge upon the person that ordered or inflictedthe punishment, and upon the State or country that would, by its laws, tolerate such a brutal or slavish practice. "

CHAPTER V. SUNDAY IN THE PRISON

A prisoner is always thankful for the Sabbath. He has been working hardall week, and Sunday affords the opportunity of resting. On the Sabbathmorning, the bell for rising rings at eight o'clock. At its ringingeach person must rise and dress; he is not permitted to do so beforeit rings. If he gets tired of remaining in his bunk so late as eighto'clock, and should wish to get up and dress, it would do him no good;it would be a violation of rules and result in punishment. After theprisoner is up and dressed, he washes and marches out in ranks tobreakfast. It is hash, hash, hash, for Sunday breakfast, the same as anyother day, except once a month it is codfish hash instead of beef hash. After breakfast, instead of going from the dining-room to work, theprisoners are marched back into their cells where they remain until timefor chapel exercises. 

There is a dining-room for the prisoners and another for the officers. The room where the prisoners dine is a large hall capable of seatingfully twelve hundred men. Each table is long enough to accommodatetwenty men, and resembles an ordinary school-desk. There are notable-cloths or napkins; nothing but a plain, clean board. The tablefurniture consists of a tin quart cup, a small pan of the same preciousmetal, which holds the hash, an iron knife, fork and spoon. No beautifulsilverware adorns this table; on the contrary, all the dining service isvery plain and cheap. The convicts are marched into the dining-room indivisions, and seated at the table. Here they remain in perfect silence, with their heads bowed. 

No talking or gazing about the dining-room is permitted. After all thedivisions are in and seated, the deputy Warden taps a small bell, andthe convicts begin the work of "concealing the hash. " Before the menenter the dining-room the coffee, bread and hash are placed on the tablefor each man. The prisoners are given all the food they can eat. It isnot the quantity, but the quality, that is objectionable. 

If more bread is wanted, instead of calling out "Please pass the bread, "the convict holds up his hand, and the waiter comes along and puts apiece of bread in it. He gets but a pint of coffee, and if he wishesa second supply he holds up his cup and it is refilled--but with waterinstead of coffee. If he wishes more hash he holds aloft his meat dish, and an officer hands him a large pan of hash, out of which he fillshis dish. Not a word is spoken during the meal. Ample time is given theconvicts to get all the food they desire; then the deputy warden, whooccupies a raised seat at the end of the dining-room, taps a smallbell, and the men march out in divisions, back to their cells on Sundaymornings, and to their work on week days. 

Breakfast over, and the men in their cells, the choir, which leads thesinging and furnishes the instrumental music for the occasion, is takenout, and, under the watchful care of an officer, is conducted to thechapel where they practice until time for the regular services. Thechoir was composed of convicts who could sing, regardless of the crimesfor which they were sent to prison. I recollect at one time we had twohorse-thieves, two rapists--one with a sentence of forty years--threemurderers, two hog-thieves, and several others of equally villainousrecords, and, last of all, the author! But this choir will comparefavorably with some of the high-toned church choirs outside! To return, think of such a choir singing:

 "Oh, how happy are they, Who their Saviour obey, And have laid up their treasures above!"

At eleven o'clock, the prison bell rings, and the men are marched inranks to the chapel. When the first division or company reaches the roomwhere the services are to be held, the string band commences to play, and as the divisions march in one after another they are greeted withmusic. The instruments used are a piano, organ, violin, cornet and bassviol. Very fine music is rendered by the prison band. All being seated, the chaplain, the Rev. Dr. Crawford, a genuine Christian and God-fearingman, rises, and in his happy style reads some beautiful hymn whichis familiar to the congregation. The choir leads and the entirecongregation sings. Such singing! The convicts have only one opportunitya week to try their voices in a musical way, and when that opportunitycomes around it is improved. Nearly one thousand voices unite in singingthose beautiful gospel hymns! A prayer is offered; more singing; thenthe chaplain, or some visiting minister who may be present, preaches ashort discourse. There is a large field for usefulness, and for doinggood, in the penitentiary. The harvest is truly great. Chaplain Crawfordcomprehends the situation, and is putting forth strenuous efforts tosave these men who have drifted thus far down the currents of sin. His labors are abundantly blessed of God. Many men go out of thatinstitution a great deal better than when they first entered. Were itnot for the cruel treatment the prisoners suffer in the coal mines ofthat institution many more of them would be reformed. This treatmenttends to harden the criminal. The chaplain has many evils to counteract, yet he contends nobly for the right, and some of these men are beingredeemed from a sinful life. After the sermon, the choir and the stringband furnish more soul-stirring music, which enlivens the spirits of theprisoners, and then the chapel exercises are over. The prisoners arenow returned to their cells. Occasionally the convicts are permittedto remain after the chapel exercises proper are over and have a socialmeeting. The chaplain remains with them. These men sing, pray and givein their religious experience. It is novel to hear these Christiancriminals telling how they love Jesus. 

Immediately after the religious services are over the prison schoolbegins. Nearly one hundred of the convicts attend this school. Thecommon branches, reading, writing, spelling, arithmetic, etc. , aretaught. This school is graded, and under the management of the chaplain, who is an excellent instructor, is a great blessing to the prisoners. Numbers have fitted themselves here so that when they went out they wereable to pass examination and obtain certificates as teachers. 

On entering the institution many of the prisoners who are unable to readand write soon acquire these useful arts if they have any ambition forself-improvement. If there was room, and this school could be conductedin the evening, as well as on Sunday afternoons, much more good could beaccomplished. I would suggest that it would be a good act on the partof the State to employ an officer who should devote all his time toteaching and imparting instruction in the common branches, and let aroom be fitted up for evening school, so that all prisoners who mightdesire to improve themselves could attend this place of instructionafter the work of the day was over. Nothing could be done that would bemore advantageous to the convict. The teachers for the prison schoolare selected from among the prisoners, some of them being very finescholars. 

After school is over the Sunday dinner is served. The prisoners oncemore march into the dining-room and take their places at the table. TheSunday dinner is the "crack" meal of the institution. At this meal theprisoners have as a luxury, beans, a small piece of cheese and some beetpickles, in addition to their regular diet. This meal is served at 2:30. 

The prisoners are then returned to their cells, where they remain untilthe following morning. They spend their time in the cells which is nottaken up by sleeping, in reading. The prison has a fine library offive thousand volumes. The State Legislature annually appropriates fivehundred dollars to be expended in purchasing books. This collectionconsists of histories, scientific works and books of fiction. Thegreater part of the criminals prefer the works of fiction. Were it notfor this privilege of reading, the Sunday afternoons and winter eveningswould seem very long and dreary. 

Several officers are on duty during the time the men are locked in theircells on Sunday, and the cell houses are very quiet and orderly, thereis no talking, as officers are constantly walking backward and forwardin front of the cells. 

This is the manner and style of spending the Sabbath in prison. Theconvicts who do the cooking for the officers and convicts, are compelledto work on Sundays as any other day of the week. It would be nothingmore than right to give these men credit for this extra work, and inthis manner reduce their sentences. The law does not contemplate thatcriminals in the penitentiary should work seven days in the week andfifteen hours each day. There are more than fifty men who are forced toput in this extra time in hard labor. 

CHAPTER VI. SCENES IN THE HOSPITAL

When a prisoner gets sick he reports to the prison physician in themorning, before working hours. As the men march out of their cells to goto their breakfast, those who are sick and desire to see the doctor fallout of the ranks and occupy seats in the cell house. Soon the prisonphysician, Dr. Nealley, calls and examines them. Many try to deceive thephysician and thus get into the hospital, simply to avoid work. Butthe shirkers are pretty well known, and have to be very sick and giveunmistakable symptoms of their illness before they can get excused. Itis very difficult to deceive Dr. Nealley. He has been with the prisonersso long, nearly six years, that he knows them and can tell without mucheffort when one of them is sick or is not in condition to work. At thesemorning examinations, sometimes there are nearly one hundred who reportas being sick. Most of them, instead of being excused, get a dose ofmedicine and are sent to work. When a prisoner takes sick during the daywhile at work, he is excused by his officer, and permitted to go to thehospital to see the physician. Fully nine-tenths of the sickness ofthe prison is contracted in the coal mines. The principal physicaldisabilities are prison fever, colds, pneumonia, lung diseases andrheumatism. Very few contagious diseases ever find their way into theprison, and those that do are quickly discovered and checked by theprison physician. When a convict is unable to work he is sent to thehospital. This department contains two wards, in the first of whichthose remain who are not sick enough to be confined to their beds, whilethe very sick are kept in the second ward. Convicts, detailed for thatpurpose, are the hospital nurses. It is gratifying to know that theseconvict nurses have a sympathy for their sick comrades truly admirable. 

Many of these sick men die. It is sad to die in the State's Prison! Irecollect one case that came under my own observation which was indeedpathetic. A man had been sentenced for five years, and had served outhis time save one week, when, taken suddenly ill, he was sent to thehospital and died the day before his term would have expired. This poorfellow piteously begged of the doctor to try and extend his life so thathe could die a free man; but all in vain! On the day which would havebrought liberty he was borne through the large gate and buried in theprison graveyard. It is heartrending to hear those men dying in thehospital, call for their mothers, wives or sisters! The convict nursesare as kind and sympathetic as possible, but in sickness and death thereis no one that can take the place of mother, wife or sister. 

There was one man who died a few days before my term expired, for whom Ifelt the greatest sympathy. His name was Frank Rhodes. He was sent fromHolton. While in jail and awaiting trial at that place he was converted. Several Christian ladies had visited the jail and left with the inmatesa few Bibles and other religious literature. At his trial Frank wasconvicted of crime and sentenced to the penitentiary for five years. When he came to the State's prison he brought his religion with him. Fortwo years this man performed his duties faithfully. He soon gained thegood will of the officers. He was a true Christian man; he showed it inhis life while in prison. After awhile his religion got the betterof him; he could not control his emotions. Often during the chapelservices, when the convicts were singing their Christian songs, overcomeby his feelings, Frank would weep like a child. Time passed. It wasa bright Sabbath morning. The prisoners were marching out of the cellhouses to the chapel, to attend divine service. All nature seemed to berejoicing. Frank could not longer restrain himself. The glowing sunshinehas much to do with causing a man's religion to boil over. All of asudden, clapping his hands, Frank shouted at the top of his voice, "Glory to God in the highest I peace on earth, good will to men!" Thiswas too much for the discipline of the prison. Convicts are expected tokeep quiet. A couple of officers seized him and led him back into thecell house, where he was placed in a cell of the insane ward and wascalled a religious crank. He remained in this cell for the followingeighteen months. He told me afterward these were the happiest months ofhis life. He would read his Bible, sing, pray, and exhort the officersto be religious. The deputy warden would often tell him that when hecould control his religion enough to keep quiet he should be taken outof the insane ward and sent to work again. When eighteen months hadpassed he concluded he could keep quiet, and so informed the deputywarden. He was immediately released from his place of confinement andwent to work. While at work he was honest and quiet. His only troublewas, too much religion! Months went by. His wife came to see himfrequently. These visits were enjoyable affairs to them. On a certainFriday his wife was to visit him. I met him the day before, and he wasoverjoyed at the prospect of seeing his wife the next day. She came. They had a joyful time. Little did either think they should see eachother in this life no more. When the hour of her departure came theyseparated not to meet again until in the world of perpetual sunshine. The next day this poor convict was taken with the prison fever, and inone short week he was a corpse. He died trusting in his Saviour. Thechaplain, speaking of this man's death, said if officers or convicts atdeath go from the Kansas penitentiary to heaven, then Frank Rhodes wasamong the saved; he was a true Christian man. After death his body wassent to his former home, Holton, where it was buried. 

The following is my experience with a poor friendless colored boy whohad a six years' sentence for burglary. I took the prison fever and wassent to the hospital. This colored convict was detailed as my nurse. He had been sick, but was then convalescent. He was very kind to me;because of this kindness and good care I began to like him. He seemedanxious to make me comfortable. "Be kind to the sick and you will wintheir friendship. " I was quite sick for two weeks, but began to recoverslowly. About this time my nurse suffered a relapse. He grew worse andworse. The doctor gave him up. "Bob must die, " he said to the head nurseone day in my hearing. A day or two after this, Bob, for that was thesick prisoner's name, sent for me to come to his couch. I sat down onthe edge of his bed and asked him what he wanted. He said: "I am goingto die, and want a friend. In all this wide world, " continued he, "thereis not a single human being that I can look upon as my friend. " He thentold me how he had lost his father and mother when a mere child, haddrifted out into the world an orphan boy, got into bad company, intocrime and into prison. As I sat there looking into the face of thatlittle darkey, I thought how sad his lot must be, and my sympathies werearoused. I said, "Bob, is there anything I can do for you? I amyour friend, and will do all I can to aid you. " I spoke words ofencouragement, and tried to cheer him up by saying that I thought hewould not die. In this I used a little deceit, but it was to assuage hisgrief. I really thought he would die very soon. Then he told me what hewanted. He said, "I am going to die; my angel mother came to my bedsidelast night; I saw her as plainly as I see you now. She said she wascoming soon to take me out of prison and out of this world of sorrow. Yes, I am going to die, but I am afraid to cross the dark river. WhenI am dying I want you to sit by my bedside, take hold of my hand and gowith me down the vale of death as far as possible. It will do me so muchgood. Will you do this for me? It is the only favor I ask. " I told himI would only be too glad to do so if it would aid him in the moment whenlife shrinks from the shadow of death, but told him I thought he wouldnot die--another little fib on my part. However, that did no harm, for Ifailed to convince him he would live. About 1 o'clock A. M. A coupleof nights after this, one of the watchers came to my cot and saidBob wanted to see me immediately. I felt his time had come. Hastilydressing, I went to his bedside. I found him dying. I sat down by hisside and took his hand in mine. I was going with him to the darkriver. He pressed my hand and a smile of satisfaction passed over hiscountenance. He said, "You are so kind. " I spoke words of hope andencouragement suitable to the time and occasion. I sat thus for somelittle time; his limbs grew cold; his eyes became glassy; the death dewwas dampening his brow. It was evident he would soon breathe his last. Poor, helpless, friendless negro! What was your life's mission? Manysimilar pious thoughts flitted through my mind. Without a friend! Amongall the millions of earth he could not call one by the endearing nameof friend! Sad, sad thought! After I had remained there some time, expecting every breath to be his last, what was my astonishment todiscover his hands and limbs growing warmer. The crisis of his diseasewas passed. No dark river this time! Soon his "glassy" eyes were closed, and in a few moments he began to snore! Disappointed, I dropped thatblack "paw, " and went back to my cot. That little darkey is still alive. He often asked me after that if I wanted to take another trip down to"de da'k ribbah!"

The prisoners who die in the penitentiary are buried in the graveyard ofthe institution, unless they have friends who will pay for the removalof the body. Just outside the prison walls is the cemetery. Its locationis a walnut grove in a deep ravine. The first graves were dug near theeastern side of the cemetery and as near to each other as possible. Asfast as this space is filled with graves it is covered over many feetdeep with the slate and dirt taken from the coal mines, a few yardsdistant. Beneath this rubbish will the prisoners sleep until the trumpshall sound and the dead arise. Prisoners dying are dressed in a neatsuit of black clothes, if the body is to be forwarded to the friends;otherwise, the burial suit consists of a cotton shirt and a pair ofdrawers of the same material. The coffin is very plain, and is made inone of the prison shops. 

CHAPTER VII. ESCAPES FROM PRISON

Occasionally there is a man shrewd enough to make his escape fromprison. When a convict has almost served out his time he is generallyselected to perform the duties of a "trusty, " and allowed to gooutside the prison enclosure. By good conduct other prisoners gain theconfidence of the officials, and there are instances where these men, though they may have several months to serve, are permitted to go beyondthe walls, doing duty for the prison. But they are rare. Generally aconvict, if he has long to serve, is not trusted to any great extent. At times these "trusties, " although they may have but a few weeks toremain, cannot successfully resist the temptation to escape. Ordinarilythe escaped convict is overtaken and brought back. 

I recollect an instance where two young fellows were thus trusted. Oneof them had two months to serve, and the other but twenty-seven days. They were given employment at the reservoir, over a mile from theprison. No officer was guarding them. They made an attempt to get away. After being absent a few hours they were missed from their post ofduty. The alarm was given, and officers started in pursuit. They wereovertaken and caught about five miles distant, hid in the brush. Theyhad concealed themselves in this place, intending to make their escapein the darkness of the coming night. The officers in search accidentallycame upon them in this brush patch. They were taken back to prison. Theywere compelled to work for thirty days with a ball and chain attached toeach of their limbs, after which they were taken to Leavenworth, to theDistrict Court, where they plead guilty to the charge of attempting toescape from the prison. Each of them received a sentence of one year athard labor in the penitentiary for this foolishness. After their presentsentence has expired, they will have to enter immediately upon theother for trying to escape. At this writing, both of these convicts aredigging coal in the mines. They are not trusted now. 

Another prisoner, a much older man than these two whom I have described, tried to escape; he got as far as Ohio before the officers secured him. During the late rebellion this man was a captain in the army. He becameinvolved in a quarrel with some of his relatives and was sent to thepenitentiary for forgery. On account of his previous good character, oncoming to the penitentiary he was immediately set to work as a "trusty. "Some few months after he was sent to the Missouri River, over a milefrom the prison, to do some work. No officer was with him. Going downto the banks of the river he discovered a boat tied to the shore. In asubsequent conversation, he told me when he saw that boat it suggestedthe thought of escaping. His wife and children were in the State ofOhio. They had removed there since his conviction. "The boat, " said he, "seemed to say, 'get in and cross the river. ' I thought of my family. Oh, how I longed to be with them! I could not resist the temptation. Ihad some old overalls, and I drew these on over the stripes. I got intothe boat, rowed across, and hid in the woods on the Missouri side untilnight. During the night-time I walked, and during the daytime would layby in the woods, occasionally going out to a house begging somethingto eat. At last I reached my home in Ohio. I was footsore and almoststarved when I arrived. " Continuing his narrative, he informed me thathe had no peace of mind. He was in constant dread of pursuing officers. Every man he saw he took to be a detective in search of him. At last, so great was his alarm and uneasiness, that he telegraphed the prisonofficials where he was. The warden went and brought him back, Forpunishment he remained in the dungeon several days and nights, and worethe ball and chain for over a month. This man has not been tried yet formaking his escape. It will probably be overlooked because of the changein the prison administration. His original sentence was five years. 

Another prisoner made his escape, was away for five years; was thendiscovered, brought back, and is at present eight hundred feet below thesurface, digging coal. 

One day a young man was brought to the penitentiary under three years'sentence. He was handsome and had winning ways. It was not long beforethe officers had learned to like him. He was a natural confidence man. It was difficult to resist his influence. After he had been in thepenitentiary a short time he was made a "trusty. " For awhile he was verydutiful and obedient. He was no fool. He gained the confidence of theofficers so that many of them would have confided their pocketbooksto his care. He was permitted to go beyond the prison walls to quite adistance. Finally he walked off. That convict has never been heard ofsince. He was a slick one. After his departure it was found out that hehad walked away from the Colorado prison in the same manner. 

The following is an instance of the shrewdness practiced in effectingescapes. A hog-thief was convicted and sent to the prison. He relatedthat while traveling through the southern part of Kansas, a mere tramp, passing by a farmer's residence, he saw a number of hogs in a lotadjoining a grove some distance to the rear of the house. Passing upthrough the grove, unperceived, he removed one of the boards and drovethe hogs out through the woods into a small pond where they coveredthemselves with mud. Then driving them around on to the main traveledroad, he started with them for town some five miles off. As he wasdriving along the highway, the owner of the hogs met him and inquiredwhere he was taking them. He replied that he was going to market. Thefarmer said he was making up a car load and would give him as much ashe could get in town. After some further conversation the parties agreedupon the price, the farmer buying his own hogs from the tramp, who wenton his way rejoicing. An hour or two thereafter the farmer, going outinto his field to see his hogs, found they were gone, and upon examiningthose recently purchased, which by this time had rubbed all the mud off, he discovered it was his own hogs he had purchased from the tramp. Heimmediately set out in pursuit of the thief, whose whereabouts were soondetermined. The thief, after receiving the money, went to town, tooka train, but stopped off at a little place nearby, and instead ofsecreting himself for a time, began to drink. While dissipating he wasovertaken, arrested, and held for trial. Had he left whisky alone, hecould have escaped. At the trial, which soon followed, he was convictedof grand larceny, and on his arrival at the prison was immediatelyput into the coal mines. After working there for a week or ten days hebecame dissatisfied, and decided to secure a position on the surface. One morning, as the prisoners were being let down into the mines, apparently in a fit he fell into the arms of a prisoner; when he landedat the bottom he was in the worst part of his spasm; the officerin charge ordered him sent to the top as soon as he had partiallyrecovered, stating that it was dangerous to have a man working in themines who was subject to fits, as he might not only kill himself but bethe cause of the death of others with him in the cage. To make his casemore plausible, when the convict learned that the officer had orderedhim to the top, he began pleading to remain in the mines and work, stating that he enjoyed the work and would rather do service there thanon the top. But the officer persisted; he was sent up and reported tothe deputy warden, who set him to quarrying rock. This was no better jobthan working in the coal mines. Providing himself for the occasion, byputting a piece of soap in his mouth, assuming a frenzy and frothing atthe mouth, he would almost deceive a physician as to the nature of hismalady. Later, it was decided that he was unable to do duty on therock pile, and was placed in the "Crank House" with the cranks. Thoseprisoners, who have either lost their mind or are suffering withtemporary insanity, not incurable insane, or wholly idiotic, are classedas "cranks, " and have an apartment by themselves. As a rule this classof individuals are harmless and not guarded very closely. Their cellsare not locked up until nine o'clock at night; the others at sixo'clock. During the noon hour the officers leave them alone, in fact, being of a supposed harmless disposition they are at no time closelyguarded. This fellow improved the opportunities afforded by the noonhour. He would go into one of the towers and work as long as he daredcutting the bars with a saw he had made out of a knife. He labored inthis manner until one of the bars was sawed so near off that a littlepush would remove it. One afternoon he bade the other cranks good-bye, telling them he was going to fly that night. They made sport of him, thinking he was growing more insane. He went so far as to say good-byeto the officer, stating that he had received a revelation from Godthe previous night, and that an angel was coming to liberate him. Theofficer, of course, thought he was getting more and more insane. Whennight came he slipped out of his cell and secreted himself in a portionof the cell house where it was dark, and when the officer came to lockup, the crazy hog-thief was not missed. Along in the night he pushedaside the bars and made his escape. This was the last the prisonauthorities heard of him until they learned he was arrested at St. Joseph, Missouri, and held there on a charge of grand larceny for thesame thing that he was in the Kansas penitentiary--stealing hogs. An officer went up there to get and bring him back to the Kansaspenitentiary, but the St. Joseph authorities refused to give him up. Hewas tried there and sent to the Missouri penitentiary. After his termexpires in that place he will have to serve out his original term in theKansas penitentiary. "The way of the transgressor is hard, " even if hedoes pretend to have fits. 

One of the most interesting and perilous attempts at escaping from thepenitentiary was the following: In the evening, after the day's workis over in the mines, the convicts are all lifted to the top, as beforestated, and remain in their cells over night. One Saturday night aconvict, with a twenty years' sentence, resolved that he would remain inthe mines, and try to effect his escape. He had supplied himself withan extra lot of bread and meat, and hid himself in the darkness of themines when the men were marched out in the evening at six o'clock. Whenthe count of the prisoners was made at the evening lock up, this man wasfound missing. As he had not been seen since the prisoners were takenfrom the mines, it was believed, correctly, that he had remained below. There was nothing done about the matter that night, the officersknowing there would be no opportunity of effecting his escape during thenight-time, as they had carefully closed the shafts at the top. They didnot set any watch until the next day. During that Saturday night thisconvict climbed eight hundred feet to the top of one of the shafts. The wooden beams running across the shaft are about five feet apart. Standing erect on one of these beams he threw his arms over the oneabove his head, and would swing up to it. In this manner he worked hisway to the top of the shaft. When he reached the surface how greatwas his disappointment, for instead of finding the shaft open, as hesupposed it would be, he found that the cover was down and that he wasunable to get out of the shaft, and thus out of the coalfields into thewoods adjoining. When he discovered this there was nothing to do butdescend, This was a perilous undertaking. The cross-beams were coveredwith oil which, dripping down from the machinery above, made them veryslippery. A number of times he came near falling, and if he had done so, he would have reached the bottom a mangled mass. It required nearly theentire night for the ascent and descent. When he reached the bottom hetook a lunch of bread and meat, went to the base of the other shaft, which is about one hundred yards distant, and began his ascent of it, with the hope he would find it open. It was daylight when he reached thetop. Two officers had been stationed there to watch him. Arriving at thesurface and just ready to get out, they took charge of, and marched himinto the presence of the deputy warden. When the convict related thenarrow escapes from death in his efforts for liberty, the deputy wardenwas so affected he refused to punish him. 

Out in the world, with the blessings of liberty all around us, we donot realize the priceless boon they are to us; but when we stand in thepresence of the perils that are undertaken in order to gain them whendeprived of their benefits, we begin to comprehend the real value ofthese sacred immunities of citizenship. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE PRISONERS

Thinking that it may be interesting to some of my readers, I will nowgive, in brief form as possible, a history of some of the most notedinmates of the penitentiary. 

FEMALE CONVICTS

He must be of a very unsympathizing nature who does not feel for hisbrother, who, though sinful and deserving, is imprisoned, and excludedfrom the society of friends. While we are sad when we behold ourfellowmen in chains and bondage, how much sadder do we become when, passing through the prisons, we behold those of the same sex with oursisters, wives and mothers. In this land, blessed with the mostexalted civilization, woman receives our highest regard, affectionand admiration. While she occupies her true sphere of sister, wife ormother, she is the true man's ideal of love, purity and devotion. When, overcome by temptation, she falls from her exalted sphere, not onlydo men feel the keenest sorrow and regret, but, if it is possible, theangels of God weep. 

In the Kansas penitentiary, just outside the high stone wall, butsurrounded by a tight board fence some fifteen feet high, stands a stonestructure--the female prison. In this lonely place, the stone building, shut out from society, there are thirteen female prisoners. During theweek these women spend their time in sewing, patching and washing. Butvery few visitors are allowed to enter this department, so that theoccupants are permitted to see very few people. Their keepers are acouple of Christian ladies, who endeavor to surround them with all thesunshine possible. For these inmates the week consists of one continualround of labor. It is wash, patch and sew from one year's end to theother. The Sabbath is spent in reading and religious exercises. In theafternoon the chaplain visits them and preaches a discourse. Severalof these women are here for murder. When a woman falls she generallydescends to the lowest plane. 

A few days before I was discharged, there came to the prison a littleold grandmother, seventy years of age. She had lived with her husbandfifty-two years, was the mother of ten children, and had fifteengrand-children. She and her aged husband owned a very beautiful farmand were in good circumstances, probably worth $50, 000. Her husbanddied very suddenly. She was accused of administering poison. After thefuneral, she went over into Missouri to make her home with one of hermarried daughters. She had not been there but a short time when hereldest son secured a requisition, and had his aged mother broughtback to Kansas and placed on trial for murder. She was convicted. Thesentence imposed, was one year in the penitentiary, and at the end ofwhich time she was to be hung by the neck until dead, which in Kansas isequivalent to a life sentence. The old woman will do well if she livesout one year in prison. She claims that her eldest son desires herproperty, and that was the motive which induced him to drag her beforethe tribunal of justice to swear her life away, During her long lifeof three score and ten years, this was the only charge against hercharacter for anything whatever. She always bore a good name and washighly esteemed in the neighborhood in which she lived. 

Another important female prisoner is Mary J. Scales. She is sixty-fiveyears of age, and is called Aunt Mary in the prison. She is also amurderess. She took the life of her husband, and was sentenced to behung April 16, 1871. Her sentence was commuted to a life imprisonment. For eighteen years this old woman has been an inmate of the Kansaspenitentiary. While she is very popular inside the prison, as all theofficers and their families are very fond of Aunt Mary, it seems thatshe has but few, if any, friends on the outside. Several old men havebeen pardoned since this old woman was put into prison, and if any moremurderers are to be set at liberty, it is my opinion that it will soonbe Aunt Mary's turn to go out into the world to be free once more. 

MRS. HENRIETTA COOK

This woman was twenty-five years of age when she came to the Kansaspenitentiary to serve out a life's sentence. She was charged withhaving poisoned her husband. For fifteen years she remained in closeconfinement, at the end of which time she received a pardon, it beingdiscovered that she was innocent. When Mrs. Cook entered the prison shewas young and beautiful, but when she took her departure she had theappearance of an old, broken-down woman. Fifteen years of imprisonmentare sufficient to bring wrinkles to the face, and change the color ofthe hair to gray. This prisoner made the mistake of her life in gettingmarried. She, a young woman, married an old man of seventy. She waspoor, he was rich. After they had been married a short time she awokeone morning to find her aged husband a corpse at her side. Duringthe night he had breathed his last. The tongue of gossip soon had itreported that the young and beautiful wife had poisoned her husbandto obtain his wealth, that she might spend the rest of her days witha younger and handsomer man, After burial the body was exhumed andexamined. The stomach showed the presence of arsenic in sufficientquantity to produce death. The home of the deceased was searched anda package of the deadly poison found. She was tried, and sufficientcircumstantial evidence produced to secure her conviction, and she wassent to prison for life. A short time before this sad event happened, ayoung drug clerk took his departure from the town where the Cook familyresided, where he had been employed in a drug store, and took uphis abode in California. After fifteen years of absence he returned. Learning of the Cook murder, he went before the board of pardons andmade affidavit that the old gentleman was in the habit of using arsenic, and that while a clerk in the drug store he had sold him the identicalpackage found in the house. 

Other evidence was adduced supporting this testimony, and the board ofpardons decided that the husband had died from an overdose of arsenictaken by himself and of his own accord. The wife was immediatelypardoned. How is she ever to obtain satisfaction for her fifteen yearsof intense suffering. The great State of Kansas should pension this poorwoman, who now is scarcely able to work; and juries in the futureshould not be so fast in sending people to the penitentiary on flimsy, circumstantial evidence. 

The other female prisoners are nearly all in for short terms, and thecrime laid to their charge is that of stealing. 

INDIANS IN THE PENITENTIARY

John Washington and Simmons Wolf are two young Indians tried andconvicted in the U. S. District Court on the charge of rape. They weresentenced to be hung. After conviction these Indians were taken to thepenitentiary to await the day set for their execution. In the meantimean application was made to the President to change the sentence of deathto that of life imprisonment. The change was made. These two Indianswere placed in the coal mines on their arrival, where they are at thepresent time getting out their daily task of coal. They both attendthe school of the prison, and are learning very rapidly. Prior tothis, Washington served out a one-year sentence in the Detroit house ofcorrection for stealing. He is a bad Indian. 

At present there are fourteen Indians incarcerated in the Kansaspenitentiary. The Indian pines for his liberty more than the white manor negro. The burdens of imprisonment are therefore greater for him tobear. One young Indian was sent to the penitentiary whose history isindeed touching. Ten Indians had been arrested in the Territory by U. S. Marshals for horse-stealing. They were tried and convicted in the U. S. District Court. Their sentence was one year in the State's prison. Ontheir arrival at the penitentiary they were sent to the mines todig coal. This was a different business from being supported by thegovernment and stealing horses as a diversion. The Indians soon wantedto go home. One of them was unable to get out his task of coal. Theofficer in charge thought he was trying to shirk his work and reportedhim to the deputy warden. The young Indian was placed in the dungeon. Heremained there several days and nights. He begged piteously to get outof that hole of torture. Finally the officers released him and sent himback to the mines. While in the dungeon he contracted a severe cold. He had not been in the mines more than a couple of days, after beingpunished, when he gave suddenly out and was sent to the hospital, wherein a few days he died. That young Indian was murdered, either in thatdungeon or in the mines. A few weeks before, he came to the penitentiaryfrom roaming over the prairies, a picture of health. It did not takelong for the Kansas penitentiary to "box him up" for all time to come. He now sleeps "in the valley, " as the prison graveyard is called. 

Another one of the same group did not fare quite so badly as hisassociate. The one I am now describing was sent with the rest of hiscompanions to the bottom of the mines. He remained there during thefirst day. A short time after he went down on the following morninghe became sick. He began to cry. The officer in charge sent him to thesurface. He was conducted to the cell-house officer, Mr. Elliott. I wason duty that day in the cell house, and Mr. Elliott, on the arrival ofthe Indian, ordered me to show him to the hospital. After we had startedon our journey from the cell house to the hospital building to seethe doctor, and had got out of hearing of the officer, I said, "Injun, what's the matter with you?" This question being asked, he began to"boo-hoo" worse than ever, and, rubbing his breast and sides with hishands, said, between his sobs, "Me got pecce ecce. " I was not Indianenough to know what "pecce ecce" meant. In a few moments we reached thehospital building, and I conducted my charge into the nicely furnishedroom of the prison physician, and into the immediate presence of thatmedical gentleman. Removing my cap, and making a low bow, as required, I said, "Dr. Nealley, permit me to introduce a representative of theOklahoma district, who needs medical attention. "

While I was relieving myself of this little declamation the young Indianwas standing at my side sobbing as if he had recently buried his mother. 

"Reynolds, what is the matter with him?" asked the doctor. 

I then turned to my charge and said, "Injun, tell the doctor what ailsyou. "

Mister Indian then began rubbing his sides and front, with tears rollingdown his face, and sobbing like a whipped school-boy, he exclaimed, "Megot pecce ecce. "

"There, doctor, " said I, "you have it. This Indian has got that dreadfuldisease known as 'pecce ecce. '"

The physician, somewhat astonished, frankly informed me that he neverhad heard of such a disease before. I was in a similar boat, for I hadnever heard of such words prior to this. The sick Indian was unable totalk the language of the white man. The doctor then sent down into themines for another of the Indians who could speak English and had actedas an interpreter. On entering the office, the doctor said to him, "Elihu, " for that was his name, "this Indian says he has an attack ofpecce ecce. Now what does he mean by that?"

During all this time the sick Indian kept rubbing his body and sobbing. What was our great astonishment and amusement when the interpreterinformed us that "pecce ecce" meant nothing more nor less than"belly-ache. " The doctor administered the proper remedy for thistroublesome disease, and the Indian was sent back to the mines. He hadnot dug coal more than an hour when he had another attack, and began hiscrying, and was sent to the top. He kept this up until he wore out thepatience of the officers, and they finally decided to take him out ofthe mines altogether and give him work at the surface. Even here, everyfew minutes the Indian would have an attack of "pecce ecce, " and wouldstart for the hospital. At last, the chaplain, taking pity on the pooroutcast, wrote to President Cleveland, and putting the case in a verystrong light, was successful in securing a pardon for the Indian. That"cheeky" red youth was no fool. He belly-ached himself out of thatpenitentiary. I trust I may never have to spend any more of my time inprison. If I do, I think about the first day I will get a dose of "pecceecce, " and keep it up, and see if I can't get a pardon. 

MALE PRISONERS

Ed. Stanfield. --The history of this prisoner is as follows: He was aboutnineteen years of age when he entered the prison, which was some fiveyears ago. His people reside in South Bend, Indiana. His father, priorto his death, was a prominent judge. The family was wealthy, influentialand highly respected. It consisted of the parents and two sons. Ed. Proved to be the black lamb of the flock. At the early age of nineyears, being sent away to school, he bade all good-bye one day andfollowed in the wake of a circus show which was holding forth in thetown where he was attending school, He was not heard of anymore forseveral years. His parents spent vast sums of money attempting toascertain his whereabouts. They finally heard of him in the followingaccidental manner: His father, Judge Stanfield, had been out in Nebraskalooking after some land he had recently purchased, and, on his returnhome, sitting in the cars, purchased a newspaper of the newsboy as hecame around. Looking over the paper he caught the name of his prodigalson. There, before him, was the account of his son who, having knockeddown a prosecuting attorney in broad daylight with a coupling pin, withthe intention of robbery, had been tried, convicted and sentenced to thepenitentiary for ten years, and was on that day safely lodged behind thewalls. The sad father, on reaching home, dispatched his elder son to theKansas prison to ascertain if it was his younger son who was a convict. The young man came on and soon satisfied himself of the identity of thelong-lost brother. He returned home and made the report to his parents. From that day Judge Stanfield was a broken-hearted man. He soon grievedhimself to death over the sad fate of his boy, and the disgrace he hadbrought upon the family. In making his will, however, he gave Ed. Anequal share in the estate with his brother. After the death of thefather, the mother began to put forth efforts to secure a pardon for herson. His crime was so heinous and so uncalled for that it was necessaryfor some time to elapse before an application was presented. At theearliest moment possible the wheel began to turn. The prosecutingattorney of Bourbon County, who had been knocked down with an ironcoupling pin, was soon satisfied, for the family had wealth. It is ofcourse unknown how much money was passed to him to make his heart tenderand his eyes weep over the erring child that had come so near gettingaway with his gold watch and chain. A petition was soon in circulationfor his release, signed by many prominent citizens. An open pocketbookwill easily secure a petition for pardon, it makes but little differenceas to the "gravamen" of the crime. The convict promised not to engageagain in this pleasant pastime for filthy lucre. The mother of the youngman came on from the East and remained until she had secured a pardonfor her boy. The young man stated in our hearing that it took onethousand big dollars to secure his pardon. A great many who areacquainted with the facts in the case are not slow in saying that ifStanfield had been a poor, friendless boy, he never would have receiveda pardon, but would have had to serve his time out. There are morethan five hundred men in that prison whose crimes are of a less seriousnature, and who are far more deserving of executive clemency thanStanfield. It is said that "rocks talk" in the penitentiaries as wellas on the outside. The history of this criminal will show my boy readersthe future of many of those who, in early youth, ran away from home, andgo out into the world to mingle in bad company. 

Cyrenius B. Hendricks. --This man was sent from Chatauqua County. He wastwenty-seven years of age when sentenced. His crime was murder in thefirst degree. The particulars are as follows: He had been down to theIndian Territory looking after his own and his father's cattle. Hewas absent on this business some little time. On his return his wifeinformed him that a neighbor had been talking about her in his absence, and had given her a bad character, and that on account of it she hadbecome the talk of the entire neighborhood. The enraged husband compelshis wife to go with him, and they proceed to the neighbor's house. Hendricks took his gun with him. When they reached the neighbor's gatethey halted and called the unsuspecting man out of his home. Hendricksthen asked him if the charges were true as to his talking about Mrs. Hendricks. The neighbor neither affirmed nor denied the statement. Atthis Hendricks leveled his gun and shot him dead on the spot. He and hiswife in a few hours after were arrested, and, as it was too late totake them to the county seat that night, they were guarded in an oldlog house in the neighborhood. Hendricks was fastened to the wall with alog-chain. During the night some one, supposed to be the brother ofthe murdered man, came to the window of the house in which they wereconfined, and, placing the muzzle of a gun through the window, shotHendricks. The ball struck him near one of the eyes, rendering him blindin that eye, but did not kill him. The next day the two prisoners weretaken to jail. They were tried, and both found guilty of murder in thefirst degree. The husband was sentenced to be hanged, while the wifereceived a life sentence. They were both taken to the penitentiary. After they had been there a short time Hendricks lost the other eye, from sympathy, as they call it. For a time the husband and wife remainedon good terms. They were allowed to visit each other once a month. Aftera while she tired of him and would have nothing more to do with him. She served four years, and received a pardon. Hendricks still remains inprison, and is a pitiable and helpless wreck. He is totally blind, andhis nervous system entirely shattered. He can scarcely lift food tohis mouth. He is so weak that it is with difficulty he walks about theprison park. An aged prisoner waits on him constantly to care for hiswants, and to see that he does not commit suicide. Abandoned by hiswife and friends, left to his own sad fate, totally blind and physicallyhelpless, he is another testimonial to the truth that "the way of thetransgressor is hard, " and it also illustrates how much troublemay arise from using that little member called the tongue in anindiscriminate manner. Since my discharge from the prison I have learnedof the death of Hendricks. 

Ed. Miner. --One of the men whose history will be interesting to thegeneral reader is Ed. Miner. This man is forty-nine years of age. He served in the Missouri penitentiary two years on the charge andconviction of assault and battery with intent to kill. After theexpiration of his sentence, drifting down the current of crime, he nextembarked in stealing horses. He was arrested, tried and convicted. Hereceived a five years' sentence, served his time, and went out into theworld a free man. Again falling into bad company, he tries his handonce more at the same old trade of riding fast horses, is again caught, tried, convicted, and received another sentence of five years in theprison, which he is now serving out. As a prisoner, Miner is one of thevery best. He never violates a prison regulation and was never known tobe punished. During the war he served his country faithfully for fouryears as a member of the 12th Illinois Infantry. At the close of thewar, and just before the troops were discharged, one day on review, thegovernor of the State of Illinois being present, Miner was asked by thecommanding officer to step from the ranks, and was introduced to thegovernor as the bravest and most daring man in the command. The governorgave him a hearty shake of the hand, and afterward sent him a neatlittle golden medal as a token of his esteem. Miner now wears thissuspended on a small gold chain about his neck. He is very proud of it. One of our prison officers, Mr. Elliott, was in the army with Miner, andsays there never was a braver man. It may be a surprise to the readerthat such a brave man, such a bold defender of his country's rights, would now be filling a felon's cell. The answer to this is easily given. It is all contained in the one word--liquor. Miner loves strong drink, and when he is under its influence appears to have no sense. He is thenready for the commission of any offense, ready to participate in anykind of deviltry. Were it not for this baneful appetite there is everyreason to believe he would be a highly respected citizen. I asked himone day what he would do when he got out. His reply was, "I don't know;if I could not get the smell of whisky I could be a man; it has downedme so many times that I fear my life is now a wreck; the future looksdreary; awful dreary. " With this remark Ed. Went away to attend to hisduties. My eyes followed the old soldier, and, reader, do you blame mewhen I say to you that from within my heart there came forth the earnestdesire that God in some way would save that man, who, away from strongdrink and the influence of wicked companions, is a good-hearted, generous man. 

Gordon Skinner. --A young man of twenty, possessed of an innocent, boyishappearance, whom none would take for a murderer, was sent up from EllisCounty. His victim was Andrew Ericson, a respectable and worthy citizenabout thirty-seven years of age. Skinner claims the shooting was purelyaccidental; that he was carelessly handling a six-shooter when it wentoff, the ball striking Ericson. He claims, also, that he and his victimwere good friends, and that he never had any intention of killinghim. The other side of the story is that there lived near Hayes City abeautiful girl, and that Skinner and Ericson were rivals for her heartand hand. Ericson, being much older than young Skinner, possessed ofsome property, and doubtless more skillful in the art of winning hearts, was beginning to crowd his rival to the wall. Young Skinner, not beingable to endure the sight of his fair one being thus ruthlessly torn awayby an old bachelor of thirty-seven, met him one day and the two engagedin a spirited controversy, when Skinner drew his revolver and shot him. Ericson lived several days afterward. Just before death, Ericson beggedof his friends not to have Skinner arrested, stating he was not toblame. Skinner, moneyless, friendless, a comparative stranger in theneighborhood, his people all residing in Phillips County, this State, and, with the prejudices of the Ericson people against him, was tried, convicted and sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment. If the Board ofPardons ever takes the trouble to investigate this case, with a viewof tempering justice with mercy, they will find it worthy. Skinner isa good prisoner, and has ingratiated himself in the good opinion ofthe officers. But the weight of a twenty years' term is heavy, and isvisibly affecting his health. Death should not be left to accomplishwhat the Board of Pardons should take pleasure in doing. This delicateboy should be sent home to his parents. 

FREAKS OF JUSTICE

Robert W. Corey was sent from Wyandotte County with a sentence of threeyears for stealing cattle. This is a remarkable case. Corey is a blindman, and had been totally blind for thirteen months prior to his arrivalat the prison; he was a taxidermist, and some years ago had taken acontract for furnishing stuffed birds for the museum of the AgriculturalCollege of Ames; Iowa. This business requires the use of arsenic;carelessly handling it destroyed his eyesight. How a man, blind as heis, and was, at the commission of the alleged offense, could drive offand sell these cattle, is a mystery. The man who swore that he committedthe theft is now an inmate of the institution, sent here for stealingsince the arrival of blind Corey. This man now says that he is notpositive that Corey took the cattle. On the trial, however, he swore itwas Corey, and that he was positive of that fact! About the the truth ofthe matter is, he was the villain that took the cattle and swore it onthe blind man. Corey has only a few months to remain in prison at thiswriting. It is terrible to heap such a disgrace upon as helpless acreature as Corey. 

His case calls to mind another in the penitentiary. He is a colored manwho cannot write, by the name of Thomas Green, from Fort Scott, servingout a five years' sentence for forging a check for $1, 368. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced. Taking an appeal to the Supreme Court, thejudgment of the lower court was set aside; but at his second trial, hewas found guilty again, and is now in prison serving out his sentence. How can one commit the crime of forgery who cannot write? Probably some"Smart Aleck" of a district judge can explain. I admit that it is beyondmy powers of comprehension. It may be law, but there is not much COMMONSENSE in it. 

OH! RIGHTEOUS JUDGE!

Gus Arndt is the next. The history of this man will show the freaks ofwhisky when enclosed in the hide of a raw Dutchman. Gus came to thiscountry a number of years ago, and went to work for his uncle inWabaunsee County. Not being able to speak English, his uncle tookadvantage of him, no doubt, for he paid him only ten dollars a month forhis services as a farm hand during the summer season, and nothing buthis board during the winter. Gus remained here for some time, three orfour years, working at these wages. He had learned and could understandand speak English a little. One day as he was pitching grain in thefield an Irishman came by who resided on a farm a few miles distant. Needing a hand and noticing that Arndt handled himself in a satisfactorymanner, he offered him twenty dollars per month to go and work for him. Arndt accepted his proposition, and agreed to report at the Irishman'sfarm the following Monday, this being Thursday when the bargain wasmade. That night the German settled up with his uncle, and received thebalance of his wages, some $75. He had been in America long enough toreach that point in our civilization that, after working awhile, andgetting a balance ahead, he must take a rest and go on a "spree. " Hestarted for the nearest town. For a couple of days he fared sumptuously, constantly drinking. He at length reached a point below zero. Halfcrazed, he staggers off to the fence across the way where the farmerswho had come to town to do their shopping on Saturday had hitched theirteams, and, untying a horse that was hitched to a buggy, Gus thought hewould take a ride. Lumbering into the buggy, as a drunken man can, hedrove down the main street of the town in broad daylight and out intothe country. In an hour or so the owner getting ready to return, misseshis horse and buggy. Making numerous inquiries about them and gettingnothing satisfactory, he places the matter in the hands of a sheriff, who commences a search for the missing property. Not finding it in townhe sends men out on the roads leading to the country, himself takingone. In a very short time he overtakes the noted horse-thief. Gus wassitting in the buggy sound asleep; the lines were hanging down over thedashboard, and the old horse was marching along at a snail's pace. Hewas out some two miles from town, and, no doubt, had traveled at thisgait all the way. He was faced about, and, assisted by the sheriff, drove back to town. He was then placed under arrest and sent to jail, subsequently had his trial, and for this little drive was sent to thepenitentiary for five years. Of a more unjust sentence I never heard. Gus served his time out and a better behaved person was never behind thewalls. When he regained his liberty, instead of returning to WabaunseeCounty, and to his uncle's house, he finds his way to Marysville, Kansas. Here reside a number of prosperous German farmers, and theex-convict soon got work. When he applied for work he forgot to tellhis employer that he had just finished up a contract for the Stateof Kansas. Some months had elapsed and Gus had worked hard andindustriously, had accumulated a neat little sum of money, and began tofeel happy once more. At this time a man passed through the countrythat was acquainted with Arndt's antecedents, and being a dirty dog hethought it was his duty to inform the farmer that his hired man was anex-convict, horse-thief and a desperado of the worst type. Some men areso officious and are so anxious to do their duty when it is in theirpower to injure a fellow-man who is trying to earn an honest living. Gusimmediately got the "bounce. " He was informed by his employer that hedid not want to make his home a harbor for horse-thieves. Gus took hiswages and clothes and started for Marysville. He could not bear the ideaof being discharged because of his former misfortune. He again appliesto the bottle for consolation. He goes on another spree. When crazedwith liquor he acted just as he did before; he goes to a hitching post, and unties a team of horses attached to a buggy. One of the horses hadhad its leg broken at some former time, and was almost worthless, whilethe other one was very old. He seemed to select the very worst team hecould find. Maybe it was the buggy he was after! He was probably verytired and wanted an easy place to rest. He unhitched them just as ifthey had been his own. It was in the afternoon. The streets were fullof people. Gus crawled into the buggy in his half drunken manner andstarted off down the road. When found by the sheriff some two hoursafter he had gone, about half a mile from town, the old horses werestanding at one side of the road and the drunken Dutchman was lying inthe buggy sound asleep, with one bottle of whisky uncorked, the contentsof which had run out and over his clothes, and another bottle in hispocket untouched. He had evidently gone out for a drive. He was takento jail, and the news soon spread that he was an ex-convict andhorse-thief. He was tried on a charge of stealing horses, and wasreturned to the penitentiary for a term of two years. Here were sevenyears' service for two drunks! Ancient Jacob, "how tuff!" After Gus hadcompleted his narration to me he wound up by saying, "Ven I shall oudtgit this time, I let von visky alones. "

BOVINE TROUBLE

Woodward R. Lopeman was sent up from Neosho County for murder in thefirst degree. Under his sentence he was to be hanged at the close of thefirst year. This part of the sentence is never carried out in Kansas. The particulars of his crime are as follows: He was a well-to-do farmerresiding in Neosho County, and never had any difficulty to amount toanything before this time. He was an old soldier and served his countryfaithfully and bravely for four years. For some trivial cause he andone of his neighbors had a little difficulty, but it was thought nothingwould ever come of it, as each of them had been advised by their friendsto bury their animosity before it should lead to graver results. Lopemanseemed willing to do this, but his irate neighbor would not meet himhalf way. One day a calf of Lopeman's, worth but a few dollars, gotthrough the fence and over into his neighbor's pasture. Word was sent tothe owner of the calf that if he would come over and pay damages for thetrouble of penning it up he could have his property. This had a tendencyto arouse a bad feeling in the heart of Lopeman; so, placing hisrevolver in his pocket, and asking his grown up son to accompany him, they went to the house of the neighbor and directly to the lot where thecalf was shut in and commenced to lay down the bars to let it out, whenthe neighbor came from the house with his son, and Lopeman was orderedto leave the bars alone. The neighbor, who was a strong, muscularman, proceeded to chastise Lopeman; the two sons also got ready for anencounter. Lopeman, being by far the smaller man of the two, began toretreat slowly as his enemy advanced brandishing a club. When almostnear enough Lopeman to strike him with the uplifted club, Lopeman, inself-defense, as he claims, drew his revolver and shot him. He felllifeless to the ground. The son of the murdered man perceiving what wasdone, ran quickly into the house, and getting a double-barreled shotgun, came out and fired twice at Lopeman and his son. The shots did not takeeffect. Lopeman fired two shots at him. At this the son retired into thehouse, and Lopeman and son taking the almost worthless calf, which hadbeen the cause of so much trouble, went to their home. Lopeman then wentto the county seat and gave himself up to the authorities. As soon asthe news spread over the neighborhood, excitement ran high and therewas loud talk of lynching. The murdered man was very popular. His oldneighbors smelled blood, and it was with some difficulty that they wereprevented from taking the law into their own hands. Better judgmentprevailed, however, and after six months the trial came off and themurderer was convicted and sentenced as aforesaid. THIS MAN WAS MY CELLMATE. He is something over sixty years of age, of medium height, andduring his younger days must have been very hard to handle. The firstevening we occupied the cell together he told me of all his troubles, and I learned from his own lips that I was to room with a murderer. Ifelt I would much rather be at home, than locked in that 4x7 cell witha man whose hands were dyed with the blood of his neighbor. My alarmsomewhat subsided when the time came for retiring. The old man, assolemnly as the Apostle Paul would have done, took down the Bible, read a few verses, and then knelt down and prayed. I sat there in muteastonishment at the proceedings of this gray haired criminal. How was itpossible for a man who was guilty of such a grave crime to be devout. He often told me that he had no consciousness whatever of guilt, nor thefear and dread of a murderer. I asked him if in his dreams he couldnot often see the face of his victim. With a shrug of the shoulders headmitted that he could. For six months this old man and myself occupiedthat small cell together, so small that it was very difficult for us toget by each other when the sleeping bunks were down. We never had theleast trouble during the entire time. A kinder hearted man I never met. Whenever he received any little delicacies from home he would alwaysdivide with me, and in such a cheerful spirit that I soon came to thinka good deal of the old man. If we had both been on the outside worldI would not have desired a kinder neighbor. His son, later on, wasconvicted as an accomplice, and sent up for two years. The old man hashopes of a pardon in a few years. He has a wife and several childrenwho are highly respected and much beloved in the neighborhood where theyreside. They have the sympathy of all their neighbors in this afflictionand bereavement. 

WHISKY AND WOMEN

Doc. Crunk. --One of the many desperadoes now behind the prison wallsof the Kansas penitentiary is this noted Texas outlaw. He is a nativeTexan, now nearly fifty years of age. After years of crime he wasfinally caught in the Indian Territory while introducing whisky amongthe Indians. He had his trial in the U. S. District Court, was convictedand sent to the penitentiary for three years. For a time during the warhe was a confederate soldier. Becoming dissatisfied with the professionof arms, he deserted and entered upon the life of an outlaw. He gatheredabout him a few kindred spirits with which Southern Texas was infested, and organized a band of cattle and horse thieves. This band of bandittibecame so numerous that after a time it extended along the lower line ofTexas into the Indian Territory and up into Kansas. Their ravages werealso felt in Arkansas. They had a regular organized band, and stationswhere they could dispose of their stolen property. The cattle thatwere stolen were run to the frontiers and sold to cattlemen who were incollusion with them, and which latter were getting immensely rich out ofthe operations of these thieves. They would steal horses, run them offand sell them to buyers who knew they were purchasing stolen property. For years this gang flourished. Another mode of securing stock was thefollowing: A great many estrays would be taken up and advertised. Inevery instance some member of the Crunk gang would claim the propertyunder oath and take it away. The leader of these outlaws stood trial fornineteen different murders, and was acquitted each time. He could alwaysprove an alibi. His assistants would come in and swear him clear everytime. He was an intimate acquaintance and on friendly terms with theJames boys, and related many trips that he had made with these noted anddesperate men in their work of "seeking revenge, " as he styled it. Hehas no love for a colored man, and as he works now in the prison witha number, pointing to them one day he said to me, "I wish I had afive-dollar note for each one of them black skunks I have killed sincethe wa'. " He said he considered "a 'niggah' that wouldn't vote the waydecent people wanted him to should not vote at all. " Said he: "I knowof a number that will not vote any mo'. I saw them pass in their lastballot. " "The most money, made the easiest and quickest, was made by ourmen, " said he, "as moonshiners in Montague County. We carried on thisbusiness successfully for a long time, but finally the U. S. Marshalsbecame too much for us, and we had to close up shop. We had severalengagements with them; men were dropped on both sides, until finally weconcluded to quit the business and return to our old trade of stealingcattle and horses. The way our moonshiner's nest was found out was veryromantic. A young woman came into the district, and tried to get up aschool, seemingly, but failed. I guess she did not try very hard to getscholars. At any rate she remained with a family in the neighborhoodfor some time, whom she claimed were her relatives. One of my men felldesperately in love with this young woman. He would be out riding withher, and, as none of us suspected anything, he would at times bringher over to our camp, and we taught her how to make whisky. She seemeddeeply interested in the business. I told the boys several times thatI was a little afraid of that 'gal, ' but they laughed at me, and so Isaid, 'I can stand it if the rest of you can. ' She even went so far asto become familiarly acquainted with all of us. We all got to thinkingthat she was a nice young woman, and her lover simply thought he hadsecured the finest prize in the world. But alas! At the proper time shefixed our camp. She proved to be a female detective from New York city. She gave away our fellows, and soon we were surrounded by a posse of U. S. Marshals and their deputies. Her lover was captured and is now inthe Texas penitentiary. Several of our boys were killed or wounded, andthose of us who escaped made up our minds to go back to the old cattletrade. " "What are you going to do, Doc. , " said I, "when you get out ofthis place?" "Going back to Texas; hunt up the boys, and see if we can'tfind some more horses and cattle. One thing is certain I will never goto another penitentiary. I will swallow a dose of cold lead first. "

And, with this, the famous outlaw went off to his room in the mineto get out his task of coal to keep from being punished. Of the ninehundred criminals in the prison, probably there is not one of them whohas seen so much of a life of crime as the famous Doc. Crunk. 

EIGHT TIMES A CONVICT

Thomas A. Currens. --One of the most unique characters to be found inthe striped ranks of the Kansas penitentiary is that of the man who isherein described. This convict is fifty-two years of age, and a nativeof Kentucky. His life, save a short time spent in the army, has been oneof crime. He was a courageous lad. Leaving his home at the early age often years, thus deprived of all parental protection and restraints, heformed bad associations, and soon his future career was in the directionof crime. The greater part of his boyhood was spent in city andcounty jails and reform schools. At the age of twenty-two years he wasconvicted on a charge of horse-stealing and sent to the Frankfort, Ky. , penitentiary for six years. After serving four years he was pardoned bythe Legislature. He remained out of prison for the two following years. We next find him in "limbo" in Indiana. He was arrested, and twentydifferent charges were preferred against him. By pleading guilty to thecount of stealing a wagon, the court dismissed the other cases and gavehim a sentence of three years at hard labor. He was taken to the State'sprison. Shortly after his arrival he was put to work running an engineduring the night-time. After five months had passed away, Thomas, reaching the conclusion that he did not enjoy watching over an engineduring the lonely hours of the night, determined to escape. Stealing anold suit of clothes belonging to an officer, which he drew on over hissuit of stripes, he scaled the walls and was once more a free man. Itwas a cold winter's night. After traveling some distance through thewoods his feet were almost frozen. Daylight was now approaching. He mustfind a place of hiding during the coming day. In a few hours he wouldbe missed at the penitentiary. The alarm being given, the usual rewardbeing offered, scores would be on the lookout for him. Approaching afarmyard, he sat down and cut up his striped pantaloons and wrapped uphis almost frozen feet. He then crawled under a hay-stack. In this placehe came near being discovered, for in a couple of hours the farmer cameout to feed his cattle, and as chance would have it took the hay fromthe stack under which the convict was secreted. As he was removing thehay, several times prongs of the fork sank deep enough to penetrate theflesh of the runaway. He endured this pitchfork probing heroically whileit lasted, and was thankful when the cattle had received sufficientprovender. Here he remained until nightfall. He did not renew hisjourney until the farmer and his family had retired and were in the landof dreams. Almost starved, uninvited he enters the kitchen and helpshimself to what he can find. His hunger being appeased, his old habit oftaking things that he should leave alone, forced him into the bed-roomof the sleeping farmer, and forced his hand into the pocket of theaforesaid granger's pantaloons, from which he took his pocketbookcontaining twenty dollars in money. He was now prepared for traveling. Continuing his journey for several miles, becoming very tired, hedecided not to walk any longer as there was so much good horse-flesh inthe vicinity. Near the hour of midnight, this weary tramp entered thefarmyard of a wealthy old Indiana farmer, and going into the barn ledout one of his fleetest steeds. Once more astride a good horse, Thomasfelt like a free man. During the rest of the night he made good headway, and by the morning sun was up the rider and horse were many miles awayfrom the place where first they met. Entering a small village, the horsewas fed and nicely groomed. At the same time Thomas partook of a goodbreakfast, which he heartily enjoyed. The fates seemed to favor theman of crime. It is an old saying: "The devil looks after his own. " Ahorse-buyer had arrived in the village a few days before. When the noontrain came whistling up to the station, the convict having converted hishorse into one hundred and twenty-five dollars, purchased a new suit ofclothes, a silk hat, and a pair of kid gloves, and, representing himselfto be a traveling salesman, getting aboard, soon reaches Chicago, where, soon after his arrival, he joined a band of crooks. He was neverdiscovered by the Indiana prison officials. Fifteen years afterhis escape, he got a "pal" to wire the authorities of the Indianapenitentiary, and inquired of them what reward they would pay for thereturn of Thomas A. Currens, a convict who had effected his escape manyyears before. An answer came that if he would remain out of the State, he would never be molested. 

Wandering about several months after his escape, he arrives in Sedalia, Missouri. Among other little articles he was accused of stealing atthis place was an eight hundred dollar barouche, the property ofJudge Ferguson, of that place. Again this noted thief was arrestedand confined in the county jail to await trial. He was not anxious fortrial, for he knew the "yawning pen" was waiting to receive him. Foreleven months he remained in this jail, having his trial continued fromterm to term. When his case was called up for the first time he feignedsickness. The next time one of the principal witnesses was absent, andthus for eleven months his case was continued. Thomas now yearned forfreedom. How to get out of that jail was the problem. Another term ofcourt would soon convene. He had no grounds for further continuance. Fortune favored him. At this time a man was arrested and placed in thesame cell with Currens. The face of the new arrival was covered overwith blotches. The next morning Currens in a confidential manner statedto the sheriff that his cell mate had the small-pox. Being interrogatedthe prisoner said he had been exposed recently, and a physician beingcalled, on examination it was decided to remove him to the pest-house. Currens was sent along on account of his exposure to the contagion. Anofficer was placed in charge of the two jail-birds at the pest-house. During the night following their arrival at this out-of-the-way place, the officer was pounced upon by the two desperate criminals, bound handand foot, and with a large cork placed between his teeth, was gentlylaid on the floor. His gold watch and chain, and all the loose change hehad with him were taken from his person, and the two small-pox patientswalked forth into the darkness and gloom of that night unattended by anyfriendly official. 

Thomas never believed in criminals traveling in groups, so he bade hiscompanion an affectionate farewell. Wending his way to the southwesternportion of the State he was arrested for additional crimes andmisdemeanors. Knowing that the officers had not sufficient evidenceagainst him he bravely stood trial and was acquitted. However, as he wasgoing forth from his prison cell a free man, much to his surprise, anofficial from Sedalia put in an appearance and took him back to thescene of his small-pox escapade. At his trial he was convicted andreceived a sentence of six and one-half years. He now took a cell inthe Jefferson City penitentiary. After four years of imprisonment thisnotorious criminal makes an application for pardon, setting up analibi as the basis of the application, and succeeded in influencing theGovernor to believe the testimony, and was set at liberty, promisingthat he would leave the State of Missouri, never to return. Theconscience of the said Thomas never troubled him over failing to keephis word with the officers of the law. He did not leave Missouri, ashe agreed, but betook himself to the pleasant little city of Carthage. Scarcely three moths had elapsed before he found himself again indurance vile for stealing horses. He was tried, convicted and returnedto Jefferson City penitentiary under a sentence of six years. He tookan appeal to the Supreme Court. The judgment of the lower court wasreversed. He was taken back to Carthage for another trial, and wasconvicted the second time, and again received a sentence of six years athard labor in the penitentiary. As before, he appealed the case, and thegovernor, thinking the State was getting the worst of the matter, andthat a large amount of costs were being made, pardoned the convict underanother promise that he would leave the State. Currens, now followingGreeley's advice, turns his eyes toward the setting sun. He crosses theBig Muddy, and plants his feet upon the sacred soil of Kansas. He makesa raid upon Lawrence, breaks into a house, and is caught in the act oftrying to carry off the household goods. A courteous policeman takescharge of him--now deeply steeped in crime--soon landing him behindthe bars. In the presence of the court he next makes a solemn statementthat, prior to this, he had been a Sunday-school teacher; thatmisfortune had overtaken him, and he was forced to enter some friend'skitchen or starve. Those who listened to his pathetic appeal informme that the stern judge was moved to tears, and that while he hadcontemplated giving the wayward Thomas six years, he made it three. This was the first introduction of our hero to the principal brownstone front of Lansing. It was not long after his arrival at the Kansaspenitentiary before he gained the confidence of the authorities, and wasmade a "trusty. " He had an easy place given him. 

His three years' sentence soon passed away. His term was reduced threemonths because of his excellent conduct while in prison. Bearing withhim the good wishes of a majority of the prison officials, and followedby the prayers of the pious chaplain, he goes forth to engage in life'sbattle again. Thomas could not fully enjoy the sweets of liberty unlesson horseback. He makes his way to the capital of Kansas, and engages atonce in the dangerous business of stealing horses. He had not continuedthis course long before he was arrested, tried, convicted and returnedto Lansing for five years more. Thomas had not been in the Kansaspenitentiary the second time but a few months, when he called upon thechaplain, and with tears rolling down his face confessed he was a greatsinner, promised to lead a different life, and urged the chaplain topray for him. Delighted at the prospect of snatching such a brand fromthe eternal burning, the man of God took Thomas into a private room, and the two knelt down. The chaplain offered a fervent prayer that theloving Father would take to His embrace the returning, sinful prodigal. At the conclusion of this prayer the chaplain called upon the "sinsick soul" to pray for himself. This was an unexpected movement by thechaplain, and Thomas was hardly prepared for the emergency. However, heprayed. He was converted on the spot. At least, the chaplain thought so. Strange as it may appear to my readers, instead of this noted convicthaving to remain and serve out his five years' sentence, through theinfluence of this minister he secured a pardon. At the expiration ofeighteen months the shrewd convict was a free man. That chaplain was"worked. "

The fortunate Thomas next visits Atchison. A farmer came to the city oneday, driving a beautiful horse. The temptation was too great, and theman who had been an inmate of a penitentiary seven different timesfollowed the unsuspecting farmer to his home, and that night rode awaythe coveted prize. The Atchison County Vigilance Committee traced andsoon caught the guilty horse-thief, landing him in Atchison County'sbeautiful jail. Shortly after, Thomas had an interview with the countyattorney, and it was agreed by and between them, if the horse-thiefwould plead guilty, he should be let off with one year in thepenitentiary. To this the grave offender agreed, and, presenting himselfbefore the tribunal of justice, Hon. W. D. Gilbert presiding, pleadguilty. The county attorney being absent, the court gave Thomas, insteadof twelve months, a year and a half at hard labor. I met him in thepenitentiary a few days ago, and learned that he is putting forth aneffort to secure a pardon on the ground that had he not been promisedonly a one year's sentence, he would have stood trial and beenacquitted. He claims that he should be given his liberty when his oneyear is up. 

Thomas was out of the penitentiary long enough to go into the armyand get a bullet through his ankle, and therefor draws a pension oftwenty-four dollars per month. He takes good care of his money, and hasenough on hand to enable him to get a good start in life when he obtainshis freedom. He is a well-behaved prisoner. He is true to his pals incrime, never having been known to turn State's evidence. He has a maniafor taking things that do not belong to him. He claims that he neverwould have been caught the last time had not his housekeeper "given himaway. " The two had a domestic quarrel, and in her efforts to get even, she told the authorities of his theft. After his trial and conviction, womanlike, she repented in sackcloth and ashes, but Thomas would have nomore to do with her. Later, she went over into Missouri, where she hassince died. One of the first things Thomas will do on regaining hisliberty will be to secure another housekeeper, and probably the the nextthing will be to steal some farmer's horse. 

This convict is now serving out his eighth term in the penitentiary. It is fearful to contemplate these human wrecks. A wasted life, goldenopportunities unimproved, a dark and dismal future will constitute thedeath knell of such fallen beings. Young man, remember the life of thisconvict, and shun such a course. 

SKILLED LABOR

William Hurst. --Some of the narratives in this book read like the storyof Aladin's Lamp, and we have no doubt some of them so reading areabsolutely true, while for the Lamp story nothing is claimed. Formany ages men, and particularly those engaged in the literary fieldof thought, have discanted on the baseness of the passion of jealousy. There is no sense in being jealous. You are either loved or you are not, and hence the absolute foolishness of indulging the passion. 

William Hurst, whose history we now relate, is a man of rough personalappearance, Irish descent, and his age is now about fifty-five. Comingto Kansas at an early day, he settled in Doniphan County, and therecourted and subsequently married one of Doniphan County's pretty girls. Time went along as usual, and in a few years there were several littlecherubs that blessed the household of Hurst. But, as sometimes happens, the husband began to drink, love grew colder, the necessities of thefamily hourly grew greater, poverty in all its hideousness came to cursethe home once so happy. The poor, distracted wife and mother did all shecould, by taking in washing and ironing, to prevent the starvation ofher little ones. The husband through his bleared eyes imagined he couldsee that other men were too friendly to his wife. He charged herwith unfaithfulness to the marriage vows. She denied the charge. Onlyincensed by this he would beat and mistreat her out of all reason. Forprotection she had him arrested, intending to bind him over to keepthe peace, but on the advice of officers, who are so full of it, shewithdrew the charge and he was set at liberty. For a few days he wasquiet, but soon the red liquor poured down his throat, and like amountain devil stirred all the dark passions of his lost and ruinednature. He attempted to debauch his own daughter, and was only preventedby the physical force of the ever-watchful mother. The father (greatGod! is such a human being entitled to the endearing term?) turned uponher, and again, as had often happened, abused, kicked and mistreated herin a most shameful manner. She had him arrested a second time with theintention of binding him over to keep the peace. He pretended, whilein charge of the officer, that he must see his wife, and together theystarted toward the hovel where they lived. They met the wife and motherat the outskirts of the little village, had some words, and before theofficer could prevent it, Hurst sprang upon the woman and cut her throatfrom ear to ear jumped away, and made good his escape to the woods, the officer, meanwhile, deeming it more important to aid the woman, notknowing, for a moment, that the cutting was fatal. That fact was verysoon apparent. Others were called who took charge of the body, and theofficer struck out in hot pursuit of the murderer. He was followedto the woods a few miles from White Cloud, in Doniphan County, thereovertaken and conducted to the county seat, tried, convicted of murderin the first degree, sentenced to be hung, sent to the penitentiary toawait the final execution, which, in our State, never comes. He remainedin there about twenty months when he became insane, and was sent to theasylum; was there about three and a half years, when he was pronouncedcured and returned to the penitentiary. He is now insane a second time. You have all in your younger-days read the story of the maniac thatpaced his cell, repeating "once one is two, " and now comes the queerestpart of this narrative. Hurst seems anxious to talk to every one thatcalls, and especially anxious to shake hands; but if you say anything tohim, or ask any question, his only answer is "skilled labor, " andkeeps on repeating these words as he walks up and down his place ofconfinement. 

Who knows but the infinite God has destroyed reason to prevent the powerof darkness over this poor, unfortunate being. Or who knows but thedemands of justice are met in the terrible conscience blows which havestaggered and shattered that which originally was in the image of God. 

LIFE INSURANCE AND MURDER

McNutt and Winner. --These are two of the most noted criminals in thepenitentiary, rendered so because of the dastardly crime committedby them, and the high social relations of the latter. They came fromWichita, and have been in prison almost fifteen years. McNutt is a fineartist and painter. He had his paint shop in Wichita, and was doing avery successful business. Winner was his associate, and the two plottedand carried into execution the following horrible crime: McNutt got hislife insured for $5, 000, his wife being his beneficiary. It was a dark, stormy night when McNutt and Winner enticed into this paint shop anunsuspecting mutual friend. Here they murdered him in cold blood. Theythen set fire to the paint shop and took to flight. After the firewas put out, the charred remains of the murdered man were found, andsupposed to be those of McNutt, the owner of the building. The wife, cognizant of the awful deed which her husband had committed, followedthe remains of the murdered man to the grave, dressed in her garb ofmourning. 

Shortly after this she applied for the insurance money on her husband'slife. Some doubts were raised as to the identity of the body. Detectiveswere employed to make an investigation of the case. They made use of adeception, and thus got the woman to confess. They told her that theyhad found an accomplice who had confessed the crime, and was in jail. They promised the wife that if she would tell the truth they would notprosecute her. She consented. She narrated the sickening events as theyhad been plotted in her presence and under her roof. Officers were nowdespatched to find the murderers. McNutt was found in Missouri plowingcorn. Winner was found near Wichita. They were brought to trial, convicted, and sent to prison for life. Winner was unmarried at the timeof his conviction. His father and only brother are very wealthy, andliving in Kansas City. I have been told they offer $20, 000 for Winner'spardon. McNutt is a very useful man in the prison. He has charge ofthe painting department. He has done some fine work on the walls of theprison chapel, covering them with paintings of the Grecian goddesses. Both of these prisoners hope to receive pardons. Whether they willregain their liberty is a question which the future alone can answer. 

THE HOG-THIEF

In the coal mines, as before stated, the convicts are permitted toconverse with each other. I improved this opportunity of acquiring thehistories of the five hundred criminals with whom I daily worked, eighthundred feet below the surface. I would talk with a fellow prisoner, and get the details of his crime as we sat together in the darkness. Understanding "short-hand, " I would go to my cell in the evening andjot down what I had learned during the day. I had no fears of anyone reading my notes, as I was the only short-hand writer aboutthe institution. Day after day I kept this up, until I had materialsufficient of this nature to fill a book of more than two thousandpages. My readers should also know, that a convict will tell afellow-prisoner the details of his crime, when he would not think ofsaying a word about it to others. As a rule they deny their crimes tothose who are not, like themselves, criminals, pleading innocence. It isnot difficult for a prisoner to get the confidence of a fellow-prisoner. In fact, criminals love to unburden their minds to those who possesstheir confidence. The truth is, convicts have related their crimesso often to me that it became tiresome. They say it relieves themto communicate their troubles. Pinkerton, of Chicago, the prince ofdetectives stated at one time that a criminal could not keep his secret. It is true. I know it to be a fact. It has been demonstrated a hundredtimes in my association with these convicts in the Kansas penitentiary. Securing their confidence, these men have not only told me of the crimesfor which they have been sent to prison, but also of crimes that theyhave committed, and, in the commission of which, they had not beendetected, which, if I should make them known, would cause a number ofthem to remain in the penitentiary the rest of their lives. I am not inthe detective business, and will therefore keep what was confided tome. I have met but few criminals in the mines that would not admit theirguilt. I have thought in many cases, convicts received sentences toosevere, and not at all commensurate with the crime committed. I have meta few men, however, who would stubbornly deny their guilt and stoutlyaffirm their innocence. I have worked upon these men day after day, andnever got anything out of them but that they were innocent. At times, in tears, they would talk of their sufferings, and wonder if there was ajust God silently permitting the innocent to suffer for the guilty. Iam satisfied these men are innocent, and they have my sympathy. They areexceptions. Others, while admitting their guilt on general principles, and assenting to the justice of imprisonment, yet maintain that theywere innocent of the particular crime for which they stand convicted. I trust the reader will not get his sympathies wrought too high, ascomparatively few angels find their way into modern prisons. I will giveyou a few illustrations. These are just samples of scores of historiesin my possession. 

A hog-thief worked in the mines with me for a few days. His dose wasfive years at hard labor. He had stolen an old sandy female swine withsix pigs. I asked him if he was really guilty of carrying on the porkbusiness. "Yes, " said he, with a low chuckle, "I have stolen pigs all mylife, and my daddy and mammy before me were in the same business. I gotcaught. They never did. " He then related the details of many thefts. Hemade a considerable amount of money in his wicked traffic, which he hadsquandered, and was now penniless. Money secured in a criminal mannernever does the possessor any good. I asked him if he had enough of thehog business, and if it was his intention to quit it, and when he gotout of the pen to earn an honest living. "No, " he replied, "as long asthere is a hog to steal and I am a free man, I propose to steal him. "Imprisonment failed to reform this convict. Although a hog-thief he wasan excellent singer and a prominent member of the prison choir. 

There are many murderers in the mines. In fact, nearly all the lifemen are there. Some of them speak of their crimes with a bravado simplyastonishing, showing their utter depravity. Others, admitting theirguilt, say but little of details. The following will give the readersome idea of the stories that greeted my ears almost daily, and led meto conclude that the coal mines of the penitentiary are not inhabitedexclusively by Sunday-school scholars. This cruel and heartless wretchhad murdered an old man and his wife. The old people lived on a farmadjoining the one where this criminal, who was then a hired man, worked, It was the talk of the neighborhood that they had money. This humanfiend undertook to secure their "loose change, " as he called it. Heprocured a shotgun and an axe, and, in the dead hour of night, went tothe house of the old people. He forced open the kitchen door and wentin. He had also brought with him a lantern. He quietly stole to thebedside of the innocent and aged sleepers. He had no use for his lanternas the moonlight shone through the window opposite and fell upon thefaces of the unconscious victims. Setting his gun down by the side ofthe bed, so that he could have it handy for use, if necessary, he tookthe axe and struck each of his victims a blow upon the head. He said, with a demoniac chuckle, that it was more difficult to kill a woman thana man, as it required two blows from the axe to kill the woman, whileone was sufficient for the man. He then ransacked the house, and, between some blankets underneath the straw-bed upon which the old folkswere sleeping, he found a small bag, which contained some gold, silver and paper money, amounting to over one thousand dollars. In acold-blooded manner he further stated (and as I pen his words my bloodnearly freezes in my veins), in order to search the bed upon which hisvictims were lying, it became necessary for him to remove the bodies;so he lifted them up one at a time, and placed them upon the floor, facedownward, for the reason, as he said, that their eyes bulged out andseemed to stare at him. 

After securing the money he fled and returned to the farm where heworked. He slept in the barn, as is very often the case with farmlaborers during the summer season. Entering the barn he procured an oldbucket, places his money in it, covers the top with a piece of board, and buries it in the earth east of the barn. He also buried the axe nearthe bucket. He said there were clots of blood and hair on the axe, andhe thought best to put it out of sight. He then returned to the barn, and, strange to say, soon fell asleep and slept sweetly until morning. He went to work the next day as usual, and his mind was taken up more bythinking of what a good time he would have after a little, spending thatmoney, than in worrying over the terrible crime he had committed. Hereasoned that the money would do the old people no good, but that hecould use it to advantage. 

The discovery of the murder was made the next day about noon. The alarmwas given. The whole country was aroused and excited over the commissionof such a horrible crime two innocent, helpless and highly-respected oldpeople murdered for their money. A couple of tramps had passed throughthe neighborhood the day before, and, of course, everybody thought itmust have been the tramps that committed the murder. The object now wasto find them. They were overtaken the next day and brought back tothe scene of the murder. They both stoutly denied any knowledge ofthe crime. They were separated, and each was told that the other hadconfessed. This was done that a confession might be forced from them. They continued in their affirmation of innocence. They were then takento the woods near by and each hung up until life was almost extinct, butthey still denied the commission of the crime. They were at length takento the county seat, not far distant, and, on a preliminary examination, were bound over to appear at the next term of the District Court, andput in the county jail. The majority of the people believed that theperpetrators of this crime had been arrested and were now in durancevile; the excitement soon passed away, and very little was said aboutit. 

"It was at this time, " said my informant, "that I made the mistake of mylife. I had worked hard on the farm for several months, and thought Iwould take a lay off. I felt it was due me. I now made up my mind tohave a time. I went to town and soon fell in with a harlot. I got todrinking. I am very fond of strong drink; it has been my ruin. I becameintoxicated, and during this time I must have betrayed my secret to thiswicked woman. A large reward had been offered for the murderer of theseold people. This woman who kept me company having thus obtained mysecret, went to the city marshal and made an arrangement that for halfof the reward offered she would show him the man who had committed thecrime. This was agreed to. While I was drinking and having a good timewith my 'fast woman' three men were on the road to the farm where I hadbeen working. They found and dug up the old bucket containing what moneyI had left in it, and the axe. All this I learned at the trial. I wasarrested and bound over to the District Court on a charge of murder inthe first degree. The officers had to keep me secreted for some time, asthere was strong talk of lynching. In due time I had my trial and got alife sentence. "

I asked him if he had any hope of pardon. 

"Oh yes, " said he, "in the course of eight or ten years I will be ableto get out once more. "

"What became of the tramps that came so near being compelled to sufferthe penalty of your crime?"

"They were released as soon as I was arrested, a snug little sum ofmoney was raised for them, a new suit of clothes purchased, and theywent on their way rejoicing, thinking themselves creatures of luck. "

As we sat together in a secluded place in the mines, with the faintlight of my miner's lamp falling on his hideous face, the cool, deliberate manner in which he related his atrocious doings, the fiendishspirit he displayed, led me to regard him as one among the most debasedand hardened criminals I had met in the mines--a human being utterlydevoid of moral nature--a very devil in the form of man!

A NOTED COUNTERFEITER

One of my companions in the mines, and with whom I worked a couple ofweeks, lying almost side by side with him as we dug coal in the sameroom, was a noted counterfeiter. He had plied his trade for manyyears successfully. Whisky finally sent him to the penitentiary. Ifprofessional criminals would only let strong drink alone not half somany of them would get caught. They get drunk, and in this conditionexpose themselves. We don't mean to use this as an argument againstthe prohibitory law! It is, perhaps, proper for them to drink. Thiscounterfeiter makes his dies out of plaster paris. They are very simpleand easy of construction. He explained to me the manner in which theywere made. I would give his method of making these dies were it not forthe fact that some smart boy getting hold of this book and learning themethod would undertake the business, and as a result his good old motherwould be going to the penitentiary to visit him. When this counterfeiterwould run short of funds he would purchase the necessary material, gointo the woods on a dark night, and in a very short time would haveplenty of bogus money. He taught the trade to his brother and to somebosom friends, and it was not long until they had a regular organizedgang. Getting drunk one day one of them displayed too many shining newpieces of money. He was "spotted. " A detective was put on his track. He was traced to the headquarters of the gang, and in a few hoursthereafter the entire posse were locked up in jail on a charge ofcounterfeiting and passing "bogus money. " They now formed plans fortheir escape from jail. They adopted the plan of seizing the jailor, as he brought in supper, thrusting him into a cell, locking him in, andthen making good their escape. They made the attempt. The jailor waslocked in the cell according to the programme, but so much noise wasmade in the struggle that the sheriff put in an appearance with aloaded revolver. The prisoners made a dash for liberty. A brother of myinformant was killed; another of the gang was wounded and dragged backinto his cell in the jail; the others got away. It was in the wintertime. The succeeding night was extremely cold. Wandering about all nightin the snow, their feet were frozen, and they were easily recaptured thenext day. They had their trial, and all were sent to the penitentiary. They got eight years apiece, three for counterfeiting and five forbreaking jail. In this manner was broken up one of the worst counterfeitgangs of the West. Whisky has trapped many a criminal. There are butvery few that do not "indulge. " In fact, I cannot now recall a singleprofessional criminal but would take a drop if he could get it. Theymust have whisky to nerve them for their iniquitous business. Whenthe crime is committed they drink again to soothe their woundedconsciences. 

YELLOW BACK LITERATURE

A boy was brought into the hospital one day while I was there, whosehistory is worth relating, as it shows the fatal effects of badliterature upon the human mind, and to what sad results it may lead. This youth had become suddenly ill in the mines, and had to be assistedfrom his place of work to the ward for the sick. He was very ill forseveral days, but began to grow convalescent. An opportunity presentingitself, I got into conversation with him, and he told me the historyof his crime. He was an orphan. At the death of both his parents in theEast he had come to Kansas to make his home with an uncle. This relativewas very kind, and after a time adopted the boy. He had a pleasant home, and his prospects for the future were bright. How often is it the casethat the sky of the future becomes overcast. This young criminal wasa constant reader of the Life of Jesse James, and kindred literature, until he made up his mind to go on the "war path" and become Jesse JamesNo. 2. With this in view, he provided himself with two large revolvers. One night, after all the household had retired, he crept stealthily intothe bed-room of one of the hired men and stole seventy dollars. Hegoes to the barn and takes one of his uncle's horses and starts for theIndian Territory. The uncle was awakened an hour later on account ofsome unusual sound at the barn, and going thither discovered that oneof his best horses was gone, and also that his nephew was away. He gottogether several of his neighbors and started in pursuit, and the nextday, about noon, the youthful thief was overtaken and surrounded. The uncle rode up to him and began to question him as to his strangeconduct, when the boy drew one of his revolvers, and, pointing at hisuncle, shot him dead. He was going to play Jesse James to the last. Whenhe saw his uncle fall dead from his horse, now realizing what he haddone, the bravado spirit forsook him, and he began to quake with fear. The neighbors closed in upon him and soon took his firearms from him. Indue time he had his trial and was sent to the penitentiary for life. 

Bad books are our worst companions. I have narrated the history ofthis young murderer, and now urge my boy readers to let yellow backliterature alone. It wrecked the future of this youth, and what it didfor one it may do for another. 

A YOUTHFUL MURDERER

Willie Sells. --In the prison, this convict is called the "baby convict. "When he came to the penitentiary in 1886, he was but sixteen years ofage, and in appearance much younger. One of the most sickening murderscommitted in Kansas is charged to the account of this boy. His home isin Neosho County. His father, a prosperous farmer, lived happily withhis wife and three children. Willie was the oldest of the children. Early one morning he rushed from his home and made his way to thenearest neighbor, about half a mile distant, and with his face and handscovered with blood conveyed the startling intelligence that the entirefamily had been murdered, and he only had escaped. Soon an excited crowdof neighbors gathered at the home of the murdered victims, and thesight that was presented has but few parallels in the fatal and fearfulresults of crime. The victims had been murdered while asleep. In oneroom lay the father and mother of the youthful murderer, on their bed ofdeath. Their heads had been split open with an axe that lay nearby, and the blood of one mingled with that of the other. In an adjoiningbed-room, covered with their own life's blood, were found the littlebrother and sister. They had been foully murdered with the sameinstrument that had caused the death of the parents. Who was the monsterthat had committed this terrible and atrocious act? A search of thepremises disclosed the fact that robbery was not the motive. No propertywas missing. The survivor was questioned again and again. He said thata burly-looking tramp had effected an entrance into the house through awindow during the night; that he being awake at the moment, and becomingalarmed, hid himself, and, unperceived, beheld his father and mother, his brother and sister, thus foully murdered. A thorough and extensivesearch was made, but no clue could be obtained that would warrant thearrest of any one. 

Finally, the surviving child was taken into custody. It was claimed thathis statements of the circumstances connected with the crime varied, andin several instances were contradictory. The evidence introduced at histrial was purely circumstantial. After much deliberation and hesitancy, the jury decided on a verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree, and this child criminal was sentenced to imprisonment for life. 

He conducts himself well in the prison. On account of his extreme youthhe is given a great deal of liberty. It is with great reluctance that hetalks about his crime, and longs for freedom. 

Is this boy guilty? This question has never been satisfactorily answeredin the affirmative. I am informed there was a grave doubt in the mind ofthe judge who tried the case and imposed the sentence as to the guilt ofthis alleged youthful offender. A chill of horror creeps over us as wethink of the members of this family weltering in each other's blood. Should he be innocent, it would be awful for this boy to remain in theKansas Hell for a lifetime. 

A MOST REMARKABLE CASE

William Baldwin furnishes the history of one of the most remarkablecases in the criminal annals of Kansas. He was charged with theatrocious crime of murdering his own sister. William and his sister werethe only children of a widowed but wealthy mother. It is claimedthat the son had received his portion of the estate prior to this sadoccurrence, and that by taking the life of his sister he would becomethe sole heir of the Baldwin estate, which was supposed to be verylarge. Mary, the beautiful and accomplished sister was discovered deadone morning lying upon her bed in her chamber with a chloroform bottleat her side. A panel of the outside door of the house was found removed. Immediately upon the discovery of the murder it was supposed that thehouse had been burglarized, and that the thief had committed the murder. Upon an examination of the premises by the proper officials it was foundthat nothing had been taken from the house. In looking for a motive thatwould prompt a person to commit such a fiendish act, and it being knownthat William Baldwin, the brother, would be the sole heir in case of thedeath of his sister, he was at once suspected of having committedthe crime. His arrest was prompt and immediate. He was bound over onpreliminary examination, and in due course of time had his trial andwas convicted. He was sentenced to the penitentiary for one year, at theexpiration of which he was to be hung until dead. His case was taken onappeal to the Supreme Court of the State. Baldwin, in the meantime, was removed to the penitentiary. Here he was placed in the tailor shop, where he has remained since. He is a very obedient prisoner, and ishighly esteemed by the prison officials. The judgment in his case uponhearing in the Supreme Court of the State was affirmed. From the SupremeCourt of Kansas his case was taken by appeal to the Supreme Court ofthe United States; in this highest tribunal, the judgments of the lowercourts were affirmed, and the fate of William Baldwin is forever sealedso far as the judiciary of the country is concerned. If he is permittedagain to inhale the air of freedom, it must be through the clemency ofthe pardoning board and of the governor of Kansas. During one hundredand ten years of American jurisprudence, there had been only two similarcases taken to the Supreme Court of the United States. But a few daysbefore my release I was talking with Billy Baldwin in the penitentiary, and he seemed to be very hopeful that after a time he would secure hispardon. 

His wife is one of the most highly respected ladies of Atchison;is true, faithful and devoted to her husband. She has enlisted thesympathies of the entire community in her behalf, because of her youthand great bereavement. His aged mother, who has been called upon to wadethrough deep waters of affliction because of the great calamity thathas befallen her son and daughter, will also exert great influence ingetting signers to a petition for his pardon. 

The question has often been asked me, because of my intimate relationwith Baldwin in the penitentiary, whether I believed that he is guilty. I can answer as to my own belief. I have watched him carefully as I havethe other fifty-five lifetime convicts, and I am free to say that I donot believe that William Baldwin ever committed the crime of killing hissister for the malicious desire of obtaining filthy lucre, or the estateof his sister. He does not conduct himself as scores of other criminalswho have confessed their guilt. In conversation with him, while I was"in stripes, " he has time and again told me, with tears rolling down hischeeks, that he was innocent of the terrible crime of which he standsaccused, and that there was no brother had greater love for his sisterthan he, and that he had such faith in an overruling Providence thateventually he would be exonerated from the crime; and that the realperpetrator would be made known. If he is innocent and it should everbe clearly proven, his will be one of the saddest and most mysteriousevents ever recorded. There is beyond doubt an unsolved mystery hangingover this remarkable case. 

CHAPTER IX. FORTY-EIGHT HOURS IN HELL

One of the most interesting cases of resuscitation that ever came tomy knowledge was that of George Lennox, a notorious horse-thief ofJefferson County. He was serving his second term. Sedgwick Countysent him to the prison, the first time for a similar offense--stealinghorses. 

During the winter of 1887 and 1888, he worked in the coal mines. Theplace where he was laboring seemed dangerous to him. He reported thefact to the officer in charge, who made an examination, and decidingthat the room was safe, ordered Lennox back to his work. The convict, obeying, had not continued his work more than an hour, when the rooffell in and completely buried him. He remained in this condition fullytwo hours. Missed at dinner-time, a search was instituted for theabsent convict, and he was found under this heap of rubbish. Life seemedextinct. He was taken to the top, and on examination by the prisonphysician was pronounced dead. His remains were carried to the hospital, where he was washed and dressed preparatory for interment. His coffinwas made and brought into the hospital. The chaplain had arrived toperform the last sad rites prior to burial. A couple of prisoners wereordered by the hospital steward to lift the corpse from the boards andcarry it across the room and place it in the coffin. They obeyed, one atthe head and the other at the feet, and were about half way acrossthe room when the one who was at the head accidentally stumbled over acuspidor, lost his balance, and dropped the corpse. The head of the deadman struck the floor, and to the utter surprise and astonishment ofall present, a deep groan was heard. Soon the eyes opened, and otherappearances of life were manifested. The physician was immediately sentfor, and by the time he arrived, some thirty minutes, the dead manhad called for a cup of water, and was in the act of drinking when thephysician arrived. The coffin was at once removed, and later on was usedto bury another convict in. His burial robes were also taken from him, and the prison garb substituted. On an examination he was found to haveone of his legs broken in two places, and was otherwise bruised. Heremained in the hospital some six months, and again went to work. Ilearned of his peculiar experience while apparently dead, soonafter, from a fellow miner. Prompted by curiosity, I longed for anacquaintance with Lennox to get his experience from his own lips. Thisopportunity was not offered for several months. At last it came. Afterbeing removed from the mines I was detailed to one of the prison officesto make out some annual reports. The subject of this man's return tolife was being discussed one day, when he happened to pass by the officedoor and was pointed out to me. It was not long until I had a note inhis hand, and asked him to come where I was at work. He did so, andhere I got well acquainted with him, and from his own lips received hiswonderful story. He is a young man, probably not over thirty yearsof age. He is not a hardened criminal; is possessed of a very goodeducation, and naturally very bright. 

The most wonderful part of his history was that during the time he wasdead. Being a short-hand reporter I took his story from his dictation. Said he: "I had a presentiment all the morning that something terriblewas going to happen. I was so uneasy on account of my feelings that Iwent to my mining boss, Mr. Grason, and told him how I felt, and askedhim if he would not come and examine my 'coal room, ' the place where Iwas digging coal. He came, and seemed to make a thorough examination, and ordered me back to work, saying, there was no danger, and thathe thought I was going 'cranky. ' I returned to my work, and had beendigging away for something like an hour, when, all of a sudden, it grewvery dark. Then it seemed as if a great iron door swung open, and Ipassed through it. The thought then came to my mind that I was dead andin another world. I could see no one, nor hear sound of any kind. Fromsome cause unknown to myself, I started to move away from the doorway, and had traveled some distance when I came to the banks of a broadriver. It was not dark, neither was it light. There was about as muchlight as on a bright star-lit night. I had not remained on the bank ofthis river very long until I could hear the sound of oars in the water, and soon a person in a boat rowed up to where I was standing. I wasspeechless. He looked at me for a moment, and then said that he had comefor me, and told me to get into the boat and row across to the otherside. I obeyed. Not a word was spoken. I longed to ask him who he was, and where I was. My tongue seemed to cling to the roof of my mouth. Icould not say a word. Finally, we reached the opposite shore. I got outof the boat, and the boatman vanished out of sight. Thus left alone, Iknew not what to do. Looking out before me, I saw two roads which ledthrough a dark valley. One of these was abroad road, and seemed tobe well traveled. The other was a narrow path that led off in anotherdirection. I instinctively followed the well beaten road. I had not gonefar when it seemed to grow darker. Ever and anon, however, a lightwould flash up from the distance, and in this manner I was lighted onmy journey. Presently I was met by a being that it is utterly impossiblefor me to describe. I can only give you a faint idea of his dreadfulappearance. He resembled a man somewhat, but much larger than any humanbeing I ever saw. He must have been at least ten feet high. He had greatwings on his back. He was black as the coal I had been digging, and ina perfectly nude condition. He had a large spear in his hand, the handleof which must have been fully fifteen feet in length. His eyes shonelike balls of fire. His teeth, white as pearl, seemed fully an inchlong. His nose, if you could call it a nose, was very large, broad andflat. His hair was very coarse, heavy and long. It hung down on hismassive shoulders. His voice sounded more like the growls of a lion in amenagerie than anything I can recall. It was during one of these flashesof light that I first saw him. I trembled like an aspen leaf at thesight. He had his spear raised as if to send it flying through me. Isuddenly stopped. With that terrible voice I seem to hear yet, hebade me follow him; that he had been sent to guide me on my journey. Ifollowed. What else could I do? After he had gone some distance ahuge mountain appeared to rise up before us. The part facing us seemedperpendicular, just as if a mountain had been cut in two and one parthad been taken away. On this perpendicular wall I could distinctly seethese words, 'This is Hell. ' My guide approached this perpendicularwall, and with his spear-handle gave three loud raps. A large massivedoor swung back and we passed in. I was then conducted on throughwhat appeared to be a passage through this mountain. For some time wetraveled in Egyptian darkness. I could hear the heavy footfalls of myguide, and thus could follow him. All along the way I could hear deepgroans, as of some one dying. Further on, these groans increased, andI could distinctly hear the cry for water, water, water. Coming nowto another gateway, and, passing through, I could hear, it seemed, a million voices in the distance, and the cry was for water, water. Presently another large door opened at the knock of my guide, and Ifound that we had passed through the mountain, and now a broad plainlayout before me. At this place my guide left me to direct other lostspirits to the same destination. I remained in this open plain for atime, when a being somewhat similar to the first one came to me; but, instead of a spear, he had a huge sword. He came to tell me of my futuredoom. He spoke with a voice that struck terror to my soul. 'Thou art inhell, ' said he; 'for thee all hope is fled. As thou passed through themountain on thy journey hither, thou didst hear the groans and shrieksof the lost as they called for water to cool their parched tongues. Along that passage there is a door that opens into the lake of fire. This is soon to be thy doom. Before thou art conducted to this place oftorment never more to emerge--for there is no hope for those who enterthere--thou shalt be permitted to remain in this open plain, where it isgranted to all the lost to behold what they might have enjoyed, insteadof what they must suffer. ' With this I was left alone. Whether theresult of the terrible fright through which I had passed I know not, butnow I became stupified. A dull languor took fall possession of my frame. My strength departed from me. My limbs longer refused to support mybody. Overcome, I now sank down a helpless mass. Drowsiness now tookcontrol of me. Half awake, half asleep, I seemed to dream. Far aboveme and in the distance I saw the beautiful city of which we read in theBible. How wonderfully beautiful were its walls of jasper. Stretchingout and away in the distance I saw vast plains covered with beautifulflowers. I, too, beheld the river of life and the sea of glass. Vastmultitudes of angels would pass in and out through the gates of thecity, singing, oh, such beautiful songs. Among the number I saw my dearold mother, who died a few years ago of a broken heart because of mywickedness. She looked toward me, and seemed to beckon me to her but Icould not move. There appeared to be a great weight upon me that held medown. Now a gentle breeze wafted the fragrance of those lovely flowersto me, and I could now, more plainly than ever, hear the sweet melodyof angel voices, and I said, oh, that I could be one of them. As I wasdrinking from this cup of bliss it was suddenly dashed from my lips. Iwas aroused from my slumbers. I was brought back from happy dreamland byan inmate of my dark abode, who said to me that it was now time to enterupon my future career. He bade me follow him. Retracing my steps I againentered the dark passage way, and followed my guide for a time, when wecame to a door that opened in the side of the passage, and, going alongthis, we finally found ourselves passing through another door, and lo!I beheld the lake of fire. Just before me I could see, as far as the eyecould reach, that literal lake of fire and brimstone. Huge billows offire would roll over each other, and great waves of fiery flame woulddash against each other and leap high in the air like the waves of thesea during a violent storm. On the crest of these waves I could seehuman beings rise, but soon to be carried down again to the lowest depthof this awful lake of fire. When borne on the crest, of these awfulbillows for a time their curses against a just God would be appalling, and their pitiful cries for water would be heartrending. This vastregion of fire echoed and re-echoed with the wails of these lostspirits. Presently I turned my eyes to the door through which I had afew moments before entered, and I read these awful words: 'This is thydoom; Eternity never ends. ' Shortly I began to feel the earth give waybeneath my feet, and I soon found myself sinking down into the lake offire. An indescribable thirst for water now seized upon me. And callingfor water, my eyes opened in the prison hospital. 

"I have never told this experience of mine before, for fear the prisonofficials would get hold of it, think me insane, and lock me up in thecrank-house. I passed through all this, and I am as well satisfied asI am that I live, that there is a Heaven and there is a Hell, and aregular old-fashioned Hell, the kind the Bible tells about. But there isone thing certain, I am never going to that place any more. As soon asI opened my eyes in the hospital, and I found that I was alive and onearth once more, I immediately gave my heart to God, and I am going tolive and die a Christian. While the terrible sights of Hell can neverbe banished from my memory, neither can the beautiful things of Heaven Isaw. I am going to meet my dear old mother after awhile. To be permittedto sit down on the banks of that beautiful river, to wander with thoseangels across the plains, through the vales and over the hills carpetedwith fragrant flowers, the beauty of which far surpasses anything thatmortal can imagine; to listen to the songs of the saved--all this willmore than compensate me for living the life of a Christian here onearth, even if I have to forego many sensual pleasures in which Iindulged before coming to this prison. I have abandoned my companions incrime, and am going to associate with good people when I am once more afree man. "

After he got through with this wonderful story I asked him if he wasgoing to tell others of his experience when he got out. His reply wasthat people would not believe him, and he would keep it to himself. Should this little book fall into his hands, and he should read ofhis experience while in Hell for forty-eight hours, it will no doubtsurprise him. We give the account to the reader just as we received itfrom Lennox. We do not pretend to solve the mystery. 

CHAPTER X. STOLEN HORSES

Justice should be meted out to many who, though guilty, are shrewdenough to evade it. From one of the most notorious horse-thieves in theKansas penitentiary I learned of the manner in which stolen horses weredisposed of. 

This convict's name is John Watkins. He served a term of three years inthe Missouri penitentiary, and is now serving out a ten years' sentencein the Kansas State's prison. He is the chief convict steward in thehospital, and an able assistant of the prison physician, by whom hisservices are highly appreciated. This prisoner has immediate care of allthe sick. His heart is tender as that of a woman. To listen to this man, as he sat with tearful eye at the bedside of the dying prisoner, andspoke words of cheer to him, one would scarcely believe him to be themost daring and one of the shrewdest horse-thieves that ever visited ourState. In conversation with him one night as I lay on my sick bed in thehospital, he gave me an outline of his life's history that reads muchlike a romance. 

I said to him, "John, tell me how many horses you have stolen during thetime you have been engaged in that line of business?"

His reply was, that if he had stolen one more he would have beensuccessful in having stolen an even two hundred. 

"What did you do with them after you had stolen them?"

He told me his headquarters were in Kansas City; that he would go up inthe neighborhood of Omaha and Lincoln and get his horses, and tie themin the woods until he had picked up a number of them, and then he wouldmake his way to the south. Horses stolen in Nebraska he would run southto sell. Those stolen in Missouri and Kansas he would take to the north. He told me that in Omaha, St. Joseph, Atchison, Leavenworth and KansasCity there were dealers, usually keepers of livery stables, who wouldpurchase these stolen horses. He gave me the names of a number of thesemen, some of whom I know personally. Little would I ever have suspectedthat these men were engaged in such a wicked traffic as knowingly todeal in stolen property. "When I had a number of horses, " he continued, "and wished to dispose of them in St. Joseph, for instance, I wouldride into the suburbs of the city and send a note to the man who usuallypurchased my stock. I would never be seen about his barn. After nighthe would make his way to where I was and purchase my horses, paying meabout one-half what they would really bring in the general market. Iwould get about fifty dollars for an average horse. After purchasingmy stolen horses he would not take them to his livery barn, but to aprivate stable, usually at his residence. When he would pay over themoney for this stolen property he would make out a bill of sale for eachone, and would step into a store or grocery, and in the presence of somebusiness man he would say to me, we will sign the bill of sale forthat horse I bought of you, and have this gentleman to witness thetransaction. I gave you fifty dollars at the barn, and now here is fiftydollars more, which makes the hundred, the sum I was to pay for theanimal. " I would take the money, sign the bill of sale, which wouldbe witnessed by the business man in whose presence the trade wasconsummated. We would then go to another place of business and signa bill of sale for another horse, and have that witnessed by anotherbusiness man, and would continue this until all the horses I had soldwere paid for. In this manner he would shift all responsibility of crimeupon me. Securing my money I would rest for a time until 'I went broke, 'and then I would make another trip. The horse merchant would sometimeskeep his horses until he had picked up a car load, and then he wouldship them out of the country to Chicago, St. Louis or some other horsemarket. Sometimes the horse buyer would run stolen property out into thecountry and exchange it for other property in which he would have a goodtitle and which he could take to his livery barn and feel safe with itthere. 

"What did you do with your money, John?" I inquired. 

To this question he answered that in Kansas City he had a suite of roomsfitted up in elegant style, and kept a mistress. Upon this woman hesquandered all his money, obtained honestly and dishonestly. In additionto his horse-thieving raids he had several other sources of criminalrevenue. One of these sources he described as follows: "I kept a horseand wagon, the wheels of which were covered with india rubber. The feetof the horse were also encased in the same material. I could move aboutthe streets of the city in the late hours of the night without makingany disturbance, and would pick up anything I could lay my hands on thatI could convert into money. I have carried away many a stove and brokenit up and sold it for old iron. I would also make my way out into thecountry and pillage. Often I would enter small towns and load up mynoiseless wagon with stolen goods, which I would take out of the stores. All of this money I would foolishly spend on the woman I loved. "

"How did you happen to get caught?"

"One day on the streets of Kansas City I accidentally met an ex-convictwhom I knew while in Jefferson City penitentiary. He was penniless andsomewhat shabby. He suspected me of crooked work, and wanted to go withme on a 'horse raid. ' At first I refused to take him with me, as ithas always been my rule to go alone when in the crooked business. Hepersisted and urged me to let him go along. At last I yielded to hisappeals, and we started from Kansas City. I have never been back since. My 'pal' was caught on this trip and offered to turn State's evidence ifhe could regain his liberty. He was allowed to do this. I was tried andgot a ten years' sentence. He went free. "

"What became of the woman?" I asked. 

"When in jail at Leavenworth and in need of money to pay my lawyer, Iwrote her a letter informing her of my trouble, and begged her to sendme some money. She forgot to answer that letter, and I have never seenor heard from her since that time. "

"I suppose when your time is up you will hunt her up and fit up anothersuite of rooms, won't you?"

"Never, " said he. "When I get out I am going to lead an honest life andtake care of my money. It does not pay to get money by crookedness. Suchmoney never does one any good. "

Having imparted this information he bade me good night and went over toanother part of the ward, where he took his place beside the cot of adying convict. 

CHAPTER XI. CANDIDATE FOR THE STATE SENATE

The author of this book has been guilty of a great many bad breaksduring the course of his earthly pilgrimage up to the present date. Making the race for State senator from the Atchison district while aninmate of the Kansas penitentiary, actually an occupant of a felon'scell, and robed in the livery of disgrace, probably eclipsed anythingthat maybe charged to my account in the past. 

One Sunday afternoon, after the usual exercises of the day were over, I was sitting in my little 4x7 of stone. The outside world was inconvulsions over the presidential campaign. There were no convulsions, however, where I was. It was painfully quiet. Everywhere, all over thebroad land, except behind prison walls, politics was the all-absorbingtopic. As I sat there in my solitude the question came to my mind asto what part of the great political play I would be engaged in were Ia free man. Some months prior to this a petition signed by 5, 000 peoplehad been forwarded to President Cleveland for my pardon. Had I securedmy liberty it was my intention to make the race for State senator inmy district for vindication. Mr. Cleveland interfered with my plan byrefusing my pardon. 

Thinking over the matter in my cell that Sunday afternoon, I determinedthat while the President had the power of keeping me in prison he shouldnot keep me from making the race for the position I coveted. Immediateaction followed my decision. Within thirty minutes I had written aletter for publication, stating my intention of becoming an independentcandidate. But how was I to get this letter out of the prison and intothe newspapers of my district. 

It is expected of the convict that during Sunday afternoon he will sitquietly in his cell and meditate about his past misdeeds. I would bedishonest if I did not state that my thoughts were now more taken upwith the probable outcome of the course I had adopted than of lamentingover my past shortcomings. I reasoned that I was not only pursuing anoriginal, but a safe course. Original, in that no one, so far as myknowledge extended, had ever made the race for office while a convict;safe, in that I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I willfrankly confess that when the thought, suppose I should not get morethan a dozen votes, would rush into my mind, I would feel as if Ihad better not be so fresh while in limbo. Several times during theafternoon and evening I took up the piece of paper, on which was writtenmy announcement, to tear it into shreds, and as often I would lay itdown. I viewed the subject from almost every conceivable standpoint. Ireasoned as follows: Prior to this I had decided to write a book on mypenitentiary career, as well as to deliver a lecture at various pointsin the State on the same subject. To be successful in these enterprisesI must be advertised. And I knew that should I announce myself as acandidate for such an important office while in the penitentiary Iwould get a good ventilation. In this I was not mistaken. When theannouncement appeared in the Leavenworth "Times" it was quickly copiedand commented upon by the newspapers all over the country. Some of thesenewspapers in their comments stated that I had more "cheek" than shouldbe allotted to ordinary mortals. Some said "he is a nervy cuss. " Otherssaid his back isn't broken. Now and then one could be found thatpredicted my election. So the matter was discussed, pro and con, forseveral weeks, not only by the newspapers of Kansas, but whole columnswould appear in the St. Louis, Chicago and Denver papers, as well asthose of other cities. I was advertised. It would have cost me thousandsof dollars to pay for the ventilation I received just for making thatlittle simple announcement, had I been forced to pay the regular ratesof advertising. 

But to return. It was at a late hour of the night when I closed my eyesin slumber. Before doing so I had made the final decision; I hadcrossed the Rubicon; I had looked the ground over, and had my plans wellmatured. The next morning, after the day's work had commenced, and thewarden had come down to his office, I asked permission of my officer tosee Captain Smith. The officer wanted to know what my business was withthe warden. My reply was, "Official and strictly private. " My requestwas granted. I was soon standing in the presence of the big-heartedWarden Smith, and being asked as to what I wanted, I said, "Captain, Ithought I would come in and get your opinion as to whether I was crazyor not, and if you think I am not beside myself I would like to make astatement to you and ask your advice. " A few days before this I had hadseveral interviews with him as to my pardon, and other business matters, and I suppose he thought he was going to get something more along thesame line. "Go ahead, John, " he said, "and let me know what it is. " Ithen told him of my intentions and plans. He made no reply until I hadgone over the whole subject. Then he said. "You are certainly on thesafe side, for you can lose nothing. I always thought, " continued he, "that it was practical to engage in any enterprise where all was gainand nothing to lose. And, furthermore, knowing your standing at home, it would not surprise me very much if you would receive more votes thanyour competitors. "

This was encouraging. I then asked permission to write letters to anumber of my friends, and also to receive letters from them. He informedme he could not do this, as it would be a violation of the rules ofthe prison, but if any of my friends should come down I could send outanything by them I wished. I then wired a personal friend, A. S. Hall, Esq. , of Atchison, who called at the prison, to whom I gave my letter ofannouncement, and several letters I had written to political friends. 

The news spread rapidly, and in a few days I was squarely before thepeople as an independent candidate. Shortly after this announcementI wrote an article for the papers, stating my reasons for making thesenatorial race. When writing this communication I forgot I was aprisoner, and said some things that reflected seriously upon some ofthe warden's personal friends. Here, I made a mistake. The warden, onreading this article, became enraged, and took away my writing material. At this juncture the senatorial outlook was rather discouraging. Myfriends championed my cause. Being an independent candidate, and my namenot printed on any ticket, I received no accidental votes. An electorvoting for me had to erase the name of my competitor and insert mine. There were four candidates in the field. While I was not elected, I wasfar from coming in last in the race. I received twice as many votesas one of my competitors. He is one of the best men in the senatorialdistrict, one of the old settlers, and a gentleman highly esteemed. Toreceive twice as many votes as this man was highly complimentary to me, I certainly felt flattered. When the vote was made known I received anofficial copy of the returns, and forwarded it to President Cleveland. My term was then almost ended, and I felt confident that because of thesplendid vote I had received, and consequent endorsement of the peoplewho were personally acquainted with me, Mr. Cleveland would certainlygrant a pardon. He did not so much as answer my communication. 

No one can imagine the anxiety I felt during that campaign. Had Ireceived but a small vote it would have required more nerve than Ipossess to have induced me to return to my old home. But when the votewas counted, and I received the returns, I must write it down as oneof the happiest hours of my life. I had many true friends, and theydemonstrated that fact by voting for me. Although in the garb of afelon, was not the vote I received a grand vindication? Any person ofsense must answer in the affirmative. 

Looking over the past, I can now see that I made no mistake in carryinginto effect the scheme to which my mind gave birth on that Sundayafternoon as I sat in my little-cell. 

I will close this chapter by tendering my friends who voted and workedfor me at the time when I so much stood in need of their aid, myheartfelt gratitude. 

CHAPTER XII. A DARK HOUR

It was a bright Sabbath morning. I had been detailed to assist theprison choir in their preparation for the religious services of the day. While engaged in this duty, the deputy warden sent for me. Meeting thisofficial, he said to me, "John, I have sad news for you. Governor Martinhas just telephoned from Atchison that your wife is dead, and that itwas his wish to have you sent home at once. " This was a great surpriseto me. I had heard from my wife only two days before this. At that timeshe was quite sick, but was thought to be improving. With a heart filledwith sadness I now prepared for my journey home. The warden was absent, and the deputy warden said, "There was no precedent for permittinga prisoner to go home on a visit, as such a thing had never occurredbefore in the history of the State, but, " continued he, "if you willgive me your word that you will return to the prison I will let yougo. " I told him to set the time for my return and I would be back. Mr. Morgan, the turnkey of the prison, was my guard. My journey fromthe prison was the saddest of my life. It was a bright May morning. Everything around seemed joyful and happy, but to me the world wasgloomy. I imagined my wife lying at home a corpse, surrounded by myweeping, motherless little ones. She had passed away without my being ather bedside to go with her to the brink of the dark river. Mr. Morgan, my attendant, had lost his mother but a short time before this, andhe could sympathize with me in a manner that aided me in bearing myburdens. 

After riding for a couple of hours we arrived at Atchison. The train onreaching the city passes on some two blocks beyond the depot; then backsdown. As I thus passed by the depot I saw numerous friends who had heardof my coming, and were there waiting to welcome me to my home. Theysaluted me as I sat in the car at the window and passed on by the depot. I thought they exhibited too much joy in receiving a friend who wascoming back to see his dead wife. I wondered at it. When the trainstopped to back down to the depot, I got off and took the nearest cut tomy residence. Walking some four blocks I reached my home. When nearingthe gate, one of my little daughters came bounding across the street, full of joy and gladness, welcoming me home. I thought she acted ratherstrange for her mother to be lying in the house a corpse. Without sayinganything I stepped to the door; it was standing ajar. Looking in, I sawmy wife lying in the adjoining room--not dead! Thank God! It seemed asif I had stepped into another world. My wife was very sick, but stillconscious. Oh! what joy I felt at once more being able to see my wifeand to talk with her. All the way from the prison to the door of myresidence I was laboring under a false impression. I drank the cup toits very dregs. I could have suffered no more on that journey home ifshe had been dead. In fact I supposed she was. Governor Martin had madea mistake in transmitting the message, or had been wrongly informed. 

I do not know how it came that I was permitted to return home. I was aUnited States' prisoner. As such, Governor Martin had no control overme. No one had authority to send me home on such a furlough exceptPresident Cleveland. But I care nothing about this. I did not stop toinquire about the authority; when the prison doors came open I left forhome. I was furnished a citizen's suit of clothes. I remained at homefor nearly a week. Many friends came to see me. This to me was one ofthe best weeks of my life. 

A little occurrence took place, during this short stay at home, which Iwill mention here. I have a legal friend at Atchison by the name of Hon. D. C. Arnold. This man, when tested, proves himself true to those whohave gained his good will. He conceived the idea that sending me out ofthe penitentiary, IN CITIZEN'S CLOTHING, was without WARRANT IN LAW ORPRECEDENT IN FACT, and that, by releasing me in that way, they had lostcontrol of me. Unknown to me he had prepared an application in "habeascorpus. " The judge of the District Court, Hon. W. D. Gilbert, who was onthe bench at the time, was a personal friend of his and mine also, asI had something to do in his election, and had the application beenpresented to him, the judge would have inclined to turn me loose, andI would have been a free man. When Mr. Arnold informed me as to whathe was doing, I told him that I had given my word of honor that I wouldreturn to the prison, and that I would keep it. 

At the expiration of a week I returned to my prison cell. A petition, signed by nearly five thousand people, had been forwarded to PresidentCleveland for my pardon. I had some hopes of securing relief. I bade mywife good-by. I thought sure I would be sent home in a few days. My wifehopefully entertained the same opinion. We were both deceived. When Ireached the prison, the deputy warden, Mr. Higgins, when he was informedby the officer, Mr. Morgan, who attended me home, how I refused mychances of liberty by means of the proceedings in "habeas corpus, "contemplated by my friends, choosing imprisonment rather than breakingmy word, called me into his office, and said that there was not one manin ten placed in my circumstances that would have done as I did. He thensaid to me: "Reynolds, I will see that you have no more hard work to dowhile you are in the penitentiary; I would give you your liberty if Icould, but that is beyond my power. I will make it as agreeable for youas possible in the prison. " He got another man to take my place in themines, and I was given an easy task from that on. I was detailed to makeout reports for the prison officials, and was kept busy, and was, as Iwas informed, a very valuable man in that capacity. This kind of workwas in keeping with my labors when on the outside, and was not hard onme like digging coal. I was given the liberty of the prison; was allowedto converse with the prisoners, and because of these favors shown me, Iwas able to secure the material for this book. 

The month following my return to the prison was the darkest, the mostdesolate, and the most sorrowful portion of my earthly pilgrimage yetexperienced. My wife was at home dying! I was behind the prison walls!During that month I was entirely unfit for any kind of work. The prisonofficials, knowing my sorrows, took pity on me and did not insist uponmy performing any kind of labor. I was left alone with my grief. Nonebut God and the angels knew what I suffered. During the day I couldthink of nothing but my dying wife; in the night-time, when the angelSleep closes the eyelids down to rest, none came to me; in my dreams thepale face of my dear one at home in the agonies of death was before me. I would but drop sometimes into a dull slumber when I fancied that Icould hear her calling for me, and thus aroused, it seemed to me thatI must burst the prison bars and go to her. Knowing how much deeper andstronger, purer and sweeter the affections and sympathies of woman arethan those of man, what must my poor, dead wife have borne! For thirtydays and nights I endured these torments. At last the hour came when hersufferings ceased. Reader, doubtless you have lost a loved one. If so, you were permitted to go down to the very brink of the River of Death;you were permitted to sit at the bedside and administer words of comfortand cheer. Not so with me. My loved one passed away, her husband keptfrom her side by prison bolts and bars. And, reader, when you buriedyour loved one, kind friends condoled with you, and in some degreeassuaged your grief. Not so with me. When the news came that my wifewas dead I sat down in my solitary cell and shed my tears alone. The cupthat was placed to my lips was indeed a bitter one, and I drank to thedregs. My wife was one of earth's purest and best. We lived together ashusband and wife the fifth of a century. During those twenty years ofmarried life my wife never uttered a cross word to her husband. Whatgreater eulogy could be pronounced! In the sunshine, and as certainlyamid the storms of life, she was constant and true. Because of hergoodness of heart my home was cloudless. Many times during life have thestorms and waves swept against my trembling barque, but in that littleharbor called home no storms ever came. Oh, how much a man loses when agood wife dies! So great was my distress that, had it not been for thestrength imparted by a pitying God, I never could have passed throughthat long night of suffering. Gone, never to return. 

When my prison days were over, I returned to my old home in Atchison, but how changed it was. My wife in her grave; my motherless childrenamong strangers; my home desolate. As I pen these lines, surrounded bythe fogs and mists of time, the question comes to me ever and anon, whenthe hour shall come for me to close my eyes to the scenes of earth, willI be permitted to greet my sainted wife in the beautiful city above?Yes. I have the faith that the loving Galilean--the man of sorrows, whowas acquainted with grief--will in that hour open the gates of pearl, and let me in. Until that happy hour--until we meet in the land wherenone of life's storms ever reach, my darling wife, farewell!

CHAPTER XIII. FREEDOM

To all things earthly there comes an end. Sixteen long, dreary months ofimprisonment finally passed away. The dark clouds of sadness and gloomthat for so long hung above me now parted, and folding themselvestogether rolled away in the distance. The large iron doors swung upontheir hinges, and once more I breathed the air of freedom. Drowsy Naturewas just being aroused from her wintry slumber by the gentle touch ofSpring, as I began life anew. On that, to me, eventful morning the skyappeared brighter than I had ever beheld it before. O liberty! No onecan ever appreciate thy blessings save him upon whose limbs have pressedthe cruel fetters of slavery. The sunlight of freedom falls with itsgreatest refulgence upon him who has been surrounded for months andyears by the baleful mists and darkness of abject bondage. The air ofliberty comes doubly surcharged with the fragrance of the rarest flowersto him who has inhaled the feted breath of serfdom. Grateful to God thatmy life had been spared; retaining all the ambition of former years;possessed of my manhood; conscious of no guilt, I felt that, under theguiding hand of Providence, there was for me a bright future. With adetermination to succeed, that can never be satisfied short of success, I returned to my home. I concluded that instead of going to some distantplace, among strangers, it was best for me to return to the localitywhere all knew of my misfortunes and the true causes that led to them. On my arrival at the depot I was met by a multitude of friends. By thereception that was given me no one, ignorant of the facts, would havefor a moment imagined that I had but a few hours before vacated the cellof a criminal. I pen these lines three months from the day when I beganlife anew, and during that time I have met with no one so base as to"snub" a man, who, having met with misfortune, is honestly endeavoringto regain what he lost. 

Is there any hope for the ex-convict? Is it possible for him to beclothed in the garments of respectability who once has been attired inthe habiliments of disgrace? Can he ever be a man among men who has fora time been numbered with the debased of earth? To these questions, withall the powers of my being, I answer, YES! I do not know how the outlookmay appear to others who have met a similar misfortune; but as formyself I can truthfully say I was never more hopeful in my life. Theremay be storms in the future, obstacles to meet and overcome, but selfreliant, and trusting in Him who observes the struggles even of theworm, I hope to soon reach my proper place among men, and in the endreap the golden harvest of success. The world is full of kind-heartedpeople who are ready to help those who, though unfortunate, are willingto help themselves. Scores of men annually go out from the "KansasHell, " having paid the penalties of their crimes, who are not so highlyfavored as myself, and whose struggles will have to be greater than mineif they ever secure a foothold of respectability in life. In behalfof these in their efforts to become better men I appeal to the great, loving heart of the true Kansan. HELP THE FALLEN IN HIS STRUGGLES TORISE AGAIN. 

Since my return home, several times have I visited the grave of my wife, and often on these occasions would the hot blood go surging through myveins, and my baser nature would demand that I avenge the death of herwho was so heartlessly sent to an untimely grave. A better judgment hasprevailed, and as I drop the tear of affection upon the grave of herwho is the mother of my children, I leave the wrongs of the past in thehands of an avenging God. May there fall upon those who were so kind tomy sorrowing family and myself while we were passing through the deepwaters, the radiant smiles of Him who says, "Inasmuch as ye have done itunto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me. "

A MISSOURI HELL

CHAPTER XIV. THE CONVICT'S HOME

"Jefferson City is the next station, " called out the train man as theMissouri Pacific rolled into the capital of the great commonwealth ofMissouri. It was two o'clock in the morning. From an easy recliningchair, to an omnibus, and to a cozy room in the Madison House, was thework of but a few moments. It being rather an unseasonable hour to beginthe investigation of a large penal institution, I made a brief journeyto the land of dreams, and there remained until a noisy porterknocked at my bed-room door, and shouted, "Nine o'clock, last call forbreakfast, old man; if you want any thing to eat you had better get amove on you. " Being of the opinion this was rather a cheerful morningsalutation, I arose, dressed, and soon felt better because of a goodbreakfast. I am now ready for my work--an investigation of the Missouripenitentiary. Before leaving my home in Atchison, Kansas, I procured aletter of introduction from Hon. B. P. Waggener, mayor of that city, toGovernor Francis of Missouri. I found my way to the capitol, and to theoffice of the governor. After a brief delay I was shown into the privateapartment of the obliging executive, where I presented my letter, statedthe object of my visit, and received a letter to the warden of theprison, containing a request that the bearer be shown every thing therewas to be seen in and about the penitentiary. 

From the capitol to the prison is a walk of but a few minutes. On myway there I met a one-legged ex-convict who was just leaving theinstitution. His pale face, shoddy suit of clothes and light-coloredfelt hat all spoke but too plainly of the fact that he was very recently"let loose, " Entering into conversation with him, I found that he hada few moments before completed a term of five years at hard labor. Fromhim I gathered a great deal of important information as to the treatmentof the prisoners, of which he had been an eye-witness for five years. Healso gave me his own history. In a saloon brawl, he became involved ina fight with a drunken comrade, half-crazed with drink. Pistols weredrawn, and shots were exchanged. He received a bullet in his thigh, thatcaused the amputation of his limb. His antagonist was killed. On a trialfor murder he received a sentence for manslaughter. Said he, "Whiskysent me to prison. Had I not been drunk I would never have taken thelife of the man whom I shot. He had been, for years, a good friend ofmine. I will never take another drink as long as I live. It has been myruin. " In the conversation he informed me that he had left behind him, when sent to prison, a wife and three children. During his confinementthey had to depend for the most part on their relatives and publiccharity for support. On account of their poverty they had not been ableto visit him at any time during his imprisonment. They had continued tolove him, notwithstanding his misfortune; had been true to him duringhis days of bondage; and he was now anxious to reach his home to meetthem. How true it is that the blow which falls upon the culprit, andwhich justice intends for him alone, often falls with equal force andeffect upon wife, child or other helpless and dependent relative! Iasked him how he felt on recovering his liberty after being in prisonfor five years. 

"Oh!" said he, "this is the happiest day of my life thus far; I neverknew the blessings of liberty as I do now. I never saw the sun shine sobrightly before. Everything about me seems so beautiful. From this timeI will appreciate more than ever I have done, this beautiful world. Italmost pays a man to be penned up for a time to enable him to appreciatewhat there is in the world for him. Behind the walls, however, banishedfrom the presence of loved ones, it is a veritable hell. I cannot find aterm that expresses my views of a prison life that is more suitable thanthat word--hell. Those long, dreary days of monotonous work--the samething must be gone over, day after day; the food we eat, the treatmentto which we are subjected, our loneliness and solitude, all combined, make prison life almost unbearable. " "Do you know, " I asked, "of anyprisoners who are so satisfied with their condition as to be willing toremain in the penitentiary, did they have an opportunity of obtainingtheir liberty?" "There is not a person in that institution, " he replied, "who would not hail with joy his release. Some of them are physicalwrecks, and would have to go to the almshouse to be taken care of incase they should obtain their freedom, yet they would prefer any placeto that of a prison cell, deprived of their freedom. " After spendingmore than an hour in conversation with this ex-convict, and bidding him"good bye, " I proceeded on my journey to the prison. As I walked alongthinking of the poor ex-convict I had just passed, my imaginationpictured for him a rather gloomy future. He is a cripple, and has alarge family to support; he must bear with him along life's journey theheavy load of disgrace that whisky placed upon him. An ex-convict!Who will give him work to do? Who will lend him a helping hand in hisstruggle to regain a foothold in the outside world? After a few vainefforts to regain what he has lost, will he not yield to despair, asthousands have done before him, and, becoming a pitiless wreck, pass ondown the current of crime until he drifts over Time's last precipiceand drops into the arms of Death? To the average ex-convict there is butlittle hope for success in this life. 

The painful history of a majority of them is, after they have falleninto the meshes of a criminal life, they never have the moral powerto extricate themselves. My musings are now at an end, for I have justreached the entrance to the penitentiary--"A Missouri Hell. " A prisonofficial on duty at the entrance conducted me into the presence of thewarden, Hon. John L. Morrison. This genial gentleman is a resident ofHoward County, where he was born and spent the greater portion of hislife. He is sixty years of age, and by occupation a farmer. For fouryears he was sheriff of his county. He received his appointment aswarden less than one year ago. He is without any prison experience. Thereason, no doubt, for his being appointed warden of so great a penalinstitution is, that outside from his being a man of unimpeachableintegrity, he exerts no little political influence in that portionof the State where he resides. We have no cause for criticising thegovernor's selection. Perhaps he is one of the very best men that couldhave been procured for the place. At any rate, he is credited withstarting out well. But it is not every honest, upright man that makes agood warden. It requires a man with a special fitness to be a successin handling prisoners and making a penal institution beneficial to allinterested. After Warden Morrison has been given a fair trial, andit becomes evident that he is a successful prison man, he should beretained many years in that responsible position. For the longer he iskept at the head of the institution the more valuable will his servicesbe to the State. I remained several days, and through the kindnessof the warden and other prison officials, saw everything about theinstitution that was noteworthy. 

The Missouri penitentiary is located in the southern suburbs ofJefferson City. Its entrance is from the north. It covers an area ofseventeen acres. This tract of ground is surrounded by a stonewall twenty feet high and four feet thick. The prison enclosureis rectangular in form. At each of the four corners, and at statedintervals, towers arise eight feet, which are occupied by officerson duty. Occupying this elevated position, these officers can readilyobserve all that occurs within the prison walls, outside the buildings. At stated times the officers emerge from the towers and walk along ontop of the wall to see if anything unusual is taking place about theprison. Loose stones are piled on top of portions of the wall thatsurrounds the prison, to prevent the convicts from securing a fasteningfor ladder hooks, should they attempt to escape. A portion of this wallwas erected fifty-four years ago, the prison having been establishedin 1836. Could these towering stones speak, what scenes of misery andwretchedness they might describe! O, ye rocks, that make up this barrierbetween freedom and the worst form of human slavery, as you have beenoccupying your silent position for the past half hundred years, had yourears been unstopped, what countless groans of despair would you haveheard? Could your eyes have opened, when first you took your placein that prison wall fifty years ago, how many indescribable scenes ofanguish would you have witnessed? A heavy iron door swings upon itscreaking hinges. Bolts fly back into their sockets. I step into arevolving iron cage, which, manipulated by a guard, turns half way roundon its axis, and I emerge from this into the prison campus the spacesurrounded by the walls. What wonderful scenes now are discovered! Manyof them, indeed, are heartrending. 

I will describe what I saw and make mention of what I heard. There arefour large buildings of brick and stone; honeycombed with cells--thehomes of the prisoners. The cells, in ONE of these buildings, are largeand commodious, and contain four criminals. In dimension they are ninefeet wide and thirteen feet long. The remainder of the cells are smalland contain but one man in a cell. The large cells are objectionable, for the reason that the men, being locked up together in such smallrooms, get to talking, and often quarrels and fights result. A numberof convicts have been almost murdered in these larger cells, where therewere more than one occupant. Again, if there be three in a cell whodesire to have the fourth one removed, they combine against him andrender his existence while in the cell unbearable. They abuse himconstantly. If he reports them to the officer the three stoutly denyall accusations, often bringing upon the innocent one punishment whichshould have been meted out to the three guilty ones. 

It requires but little stretch of the imagination to enable one to seehow miserable a prisoner may be rendered in one of these cells whenthree occupants of the same cell combine against him. The large cellsare a source of great annoyance to prison officials, and are now, aftertrial, universally condemned. The small cells are about four feet wide, seven feet long, and seven feet high. The doors are very low, and theprisoner has to stoop as he enters. The low door gives to the cell amore gloomy appearance than it would possess if the entrance was higher. On going into one of these cells one has the same feeling as takes holdof him when he crawls into a low, dark hole in the ground. The cells areconstructed of stone, with wooden floors. The cells of the Kansas andother penitentiaries are higher and better ventilated. The furniture ofthe cell consists of an iron rack, on which is placed a straw bed withsufficient covering to keep the convict warm. There are also a bucket, wash-basin and towel. The prisoner washes himself in the cell. He alsohas a chair to sit on and a Holy Bible to read. This is about all thefurniture to be found in the cells. Occasionally a carpet covers thefloor, but the prisoner furnishes this out of his own means. If he hasno means he has no carpet. I was much surprised to learn that there wasno way provided for the convicts to take a plunge bath, and that many ofthem became very filthy because of their not being compelled to batheat stated times. Other penitentiaries are supplied with bath-houses, andonce each week the inmates are required to take a bath. This certainlyis conducive to good health. The cell-houses are lighted by electriclights, and each cell is provided with a lamp. Thus the prisoner has anopportunity of reading during the evenings, which is a great blessing, and should be highly appreciated. 

The prison is supplied with a large library of choice books to which theinmates have access. They also are allowed to read daily newspapers, ifthey have money with which to purchase them. The managing officials ofthe Kansas penitentiary are possessed of a very foolish notion inregard to the reading of daily newspapers. They will not under anycircumstances allow a prisoner to take his home paper, or have access toany political daily. They claim that it excites the prisoner and makeshis imprisonment more difficult to bear when he knows what is going onin the outside world. It seems that this custom smacks of barbarism, and the prison directors of the Kansas prison should discard it at once. Imagine the condition of a prisoner who has been in confinement for tenyears, having no access to the daily or weekly newspapers. He would bean ignoramus of the worst type. Our penal institutions should try andimprove their prisoners, instead of rendering them more ignorant anddebased. We are glad to note that the Missouri penitentiary is inadvance of the Kansas prison in this respect. If the prisoner can take alittle pleasure in reading, daily or weekly, what takes place at his ownhome, why not give him the privilege, since it is evident that sucha permission will not be detrimental to prison discipline? There areschool books to be found in the prison library, and the prisoners, ifthey desire, can get these books and study them. A great many do improvethese opportunities, and a number have made great advancement in theirstudies. They are also permitted to have writing materials in theircells, a privilege which is considered very dangerous, and which but fewsimilar institutions grant. Many of the convicts who could not reador write on entering the prison make considerable progress in thesestudies. 

The Missouri prison does not go far enough in matters of education. Itshould be provided with a school. In this matter the Kansas and Iowapenitentiaries are far in advance. They have regular graded schools, andmany convicts have acquired an education sufficient to enable them toteach when they went out again into the free world. It is to be hopedwhen the Legislature meets again the members will see to it that ampleprovision is made for a first-class school at the prison, with a corpsof good teachers. The State will lose nothing by this movement. 

In the Iowa prison at Ft. Madison the convicts are taught in theevening, after the work of the day is over. In the Kansas prison, instruction is given Sunday afternoon. These schools are accomplishinggreat good. The chief object of imprisonment should be reformation. Ignorance and reformation do not affiliate. Some will argue that ifprisoners are educated and treated so humanely they will have a desireto return to the prison, in fact, make it their home. Experienceteaches us that, treat a human being as a prince, and deprive him of hisliberty, and the greatest burden of life is placed upon him, and he isrendered a pitiable object of abject misery. There is no punishment towhich a human being can be subjected which it is possible to endure, that is more to be dreaded than confinement. Those long, weary, lonelyhours that the prisoner spends in his cell are laden with the greatestof all continuous sorrows. There is but little danger of surfeiting himwith kindness and advantages, so long as he is deprived of his freedom. If there is any hope for the reformation of the vicious and depraved, nobetter place can be found to commence that reformation than while he isan inmate of the prison. While there, he is shut out from the societyof his wicked companions; he is not subjected to the same temptationsin prison as on the outside. Save being deprived of his freedom, heis placed in the most favorable position for reformation that it ispossible for one to occupy. If he is not reformed here it is not likelyhe ever will be. It is to the highest interest of the State that theseopportunities should be improved. Every effort should be put forth tomake these men better while they are in prison. They are worth saving. It must not be forgotten that one of the essential features in athorough reformation of a man, is to drive away the mists of ignoranceby which he is surrounded. Other things being equal, he is the betterprepared to wage successfully life's warfare, who is educated. He willbe better able to resist the temptations which he will meet when hisdays of bondage are over. Yes, by all means, let every prison have itsschool. It is of the greatest importance to the prisoner, likewise tothe State. As I was passing through these cell-houses, reading thenames of the convicts, placed above the cell door, I came to one whichcontained four brothers. Five brothers were convicted of robbery andsent to the prison, but a short time ago one of them was pardoned, andthe four now remain. The liberated one was on a visit to his brotherswhile I was at the prison. Reader, is it not a sad thought that thesefour young men, brothers, should spend ten of the best years of theirlives in a prison? Surely the way of the transgressor is hard. 

Young man, you who have as yet never been an inmate of a prison, imagine, if possible, the loneliness experienced as one spends his days, weeks, months and years behind these frowning prison walls, shut up thegreatest portion of the time in these small cells that I have describedin this chapter. If you do not wish a life of this nature, shun thecompany of wicked and vicious associates, and strive with all your powerto resist the tempter in whatever form he may approach you. It is notforce he employs to drag you down to the plane of the convict, but hecauses the sweet song of the syren to ring in your ear, and in thismanner allures you away from the right, and gently leads you down thepathway that ends in a felon cell, disgrace and death. 

CHAPTER XV. THE WORK OF THE CONVICT

It is a great blessing to the convict that he can have the privilege ofworking. When prisons were first started in this country it was thoughtbest to keep the prisoner in solitary confinement; have him visiteddaily by a spiritual teacher, place the Bible and other good books inhis hands, and in this manner reform him, and send him out into theworld a better man than he was on entering the prison. The greatpenal institution of Auburn, New York, was for a time conducted inthis manner. The plan, at first thought to be a good one, had to beabandoned. The criminal could not endure solitary confinement. HE MUSTHAVE WORK. Many of them became insane, while still others died for wantof the open air, out-door exercise, and some diversion for the mind. 

In all the penitentiaries of the country, at the present time, convictsare required to perform some kind of useful labor. That is one point ofthe prison question that is, doubtless, forever settled. All prisonmen agree that the convict must perform some kind of work. Labor to theprisoners means health of body and mind. Solitary confinement means thereverse. But what kind of labor the prisoner should perform, andwhat should be done with the results of his labor, is one of the mostdifficult questions to decide. 

All the prisoners of the Missouri penitentiary are let out tocontractors, with the exception of those needed to do the work aboutthe prison. The work consists chiefly of making saddle-trees and shoes. Several large three-story buildings are used in furnishing room for theconvicts while at labor. Those contractors who have been at the prisonfor some time have grown rich. They get their men for forty-five cents aday, on an average. They have their choice of prisoners as they comein. Those convicts designated scrubs, do the work for the State. Thecontractors are charged with controlling the prison. If one of theofficials, in the discharge of his duty, happens to do anythingdispleasing to the contractors, they combine against him and have himremoved. They are charged with using their combined political influence, and even money, to carry their points. We have been told by some ofthe leading men of the State that it was a notorious fact that thepenitentiary was controlled by a political ring, a set of jobbers, andthis ring was largely influenced by the contractors. The contract systemis wrong, and should not have a place in any of the penal institutionsof the country. 

The contractor assigns the task. The prisoner must perform that task orbe punished. If an avaricious contractor, in his desire to make money, places too great a task upon the prisoner, who is there to take theprisoner's part and shield him from abuse? Fully nine-tenths of thepunishments inflicted is the result of the reports and complaints of thecontractors. See how unjust and how hard this contract system is uponmany of the prisoners! Two convicts enter the same day. In outwardappearance they are strong, healthy men. The same task is assigned them. One of them being adapted to that line of work, and skilled, performshis task with ease; while the other, equally industrious, cannot getthrough with his. He is reported for shirking. He states his inabilityto do the amount of work assigned him. The contractor or his foremanmakes a different report. The assertions of the convict amount tobut little, as against the statements of the rich and influentialcontractor. He is punished and returned to his work. A second time hetries, again fails, and is reported as before. This being the secondoffense the prisoner is subjected to a more severe punishment. Thisbrutal treatment is continued until the officer, growing weary withinflicting punishment upon the poor wretch, concludes he is unable toperform the task assigned him. If this contract system is to continuein Missouri, there should be some one whose duty it is to see that theprisoner is humanely treated, and not let a brutal officer decide, whois in league with the contractors. I have it from the lips of a prisonofficial who has been connected with the prison for thirty-six years, that the treatment some of the prisoners receive because of theavariciousness of the contractors, is simply heartrending. 

After all, is not this contract system a regular jobbing business? Ifthese men can employ the prisoners and pay forty-five cents a dayfor them, and make money and grow rich, why cannot the State work theconvicts and save all these profits? Competent men can be secured assuperintendents to carry on this work. Some will say, that it will openup too many avenues to jobbery; that the superintendents will get tostealing from the State, and in the end the State will not get asmuch benefit as under the present system. This seems like begging thequestion. If these superintendents, after a time, become thieves, treatthem as thieves, and give them a term in the penitentiary. This kind ofmedicine will soon cure all cases of jobbery. Again, prisoners should beassigned tasks according to their ability. All men are not alike equallyskilled in the same kind of labor. All these things should be takeninto account. No prisoner should be forced to carry a burden that isoppressive, in order to fill the coffers of avaricious contractors. Again, I ask that there be some humane person, whose duty it is to seethat these helpless men, whose lips are sealed, are not oppressedby this damnable contract system. Let us treat these unfortunate menhumanely, and never forget that, if stern justice was meted out to thosewho had the control of convicts, as officers, guards, or contractors, many of them would be doing service for the State, clad in a suit ofstripes. The penitentiary of Missouri is self-supporting, with theexception of the officer's pay-roll. At each session of the Legislature, an appropriation of $140, 000 is made for this purpose. There are overone hundred officers on the pay-roll. The records show that it requiresnearly a quarter of a million dollars annually to pay the expenses ofthis institution. 

Crime is an expensive luxury!

During the past two years $347, 000 have been paid into the treasury asthe earnings of the prison. The goods manufactured are sold chiefly inthe State of Missouri. This brings convict labor, which is very cheap, into competition with the labor of the poor, but honest man on theoutside. The average labor value of the convict is forty-five centsa day. How is it possible for laboring men on the outside, who havefamilies depending upon them, to support themselves and families on anamount, that will enable business men, for whom they work, to engage inbusiness and compete with this cheap convict labor? This is the greatargument against convict labor. The convict must be given work or hewill become insane. To bring this cheap labor into conflict with thetoil of honest but poor men on the outside, is unjust and cruel. What todo with convict labor is one of the unsolved problems. It is a subjectthat will furnish ample scope for the thinking mind. 

The prisoner is worked on an average of nine hours each day. He goesabout his labor in silence. It is against the regulations for him toexchange a word or a knowing glance with a fellow-workman. When visitorspass through the workshops he is not permitted to lift his eyes fromhis work to look at them. An officer, perched upon a raised seat, whocommands a view of the entire work-room, is constantly on the watch tosee that no rule or regulation is violated. The convict cannot takea drink of water, or go from one part of the room to another in thedischarge of his duties without permission from the officer. Theprisoner is always conscious of being watched. This feeling is no smallfactor in making the life of a prisoner almost unbearable. Nearly all ofthe inmates work in shops, and all the exercise they receive in the openair is what they get in going to and from their meals and cells. Itis this sameness of work, this daily and hourly going over the sameroutine, this monotonous labor, this being surrounded by hundreds ofbusy fellow-workmen, and not permitted to exchange a word with any ofthem, that makes the life of a prisoner to be so much dreaded. Youngman, as you read these lines, it is impossible for you to conceive themisery that accompanies this kind of a monotonous life. 

In order to know all that it means, you must pass through it, as I havedone. Things are entirely different with you. While you are at work onthe outside of prisons, you can carry on conversation with those aboutyou and thus pass the time in a pleasant manner. After the day's work isover, if you so desire, you can spend an hour or so with friends. Not sowith the criminal. After his day's work, done in silence, is past, he islocked up in his solitary cell to spend the evening as best he can. 

There is no one to watch you constantly while at your daily toil, to seethat you do not violate some insignificant rule or regulation. When youdesire a holiday, and wish to take a stroll out into the woods, to lookupon the beautiful flowers or admire nature in all her loveliness, toinhale the pure, fresh air--which is a stranger to packed workshops--torevel in the genial sunlight, there is no one to forbid you. You are afree man. 

Oh, what a wonderful difference between the laboring man who is free, and him who is forced to work, clad in the habiliments of disgrace! Hewho penned these lines has had to toil as a convict in the coal minesof the Kansas penitentiary, eight hundred feet below the surface, lyingstretched out on his side, and he knows what he is talking about whenhe says, he would rather die and be laid away in his grave than to spendfive years as a convict. 

Young man, think of these things when you are tempted to do those thingsthat will send you to a felon's cell. Of course, it is no intentionof yours ever to become an inmate of a prison. Permit one who has hadexperience, to tell you that it is one of the easiest things in theworld to get into a prison, and that when once in, it is difficult tosecure your liberty, until Time turns the bolt and lets you out, or inother words, until you serve out your term. May you never yield to atemptation that will make you a prisoner. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE MISSOURI PRISONERS

The Missouri penitentiary contains 1, 894 convicts. This is the mostpopulous penal institution in the United States. Crime is on theincrease. The number of prisoners is gradually becoming larger. Reformation is not the success that it should be. A great many of theprisoners return a second, third and many the fourth time. There is oneold convict now an inmate who has served nine different terms in thisprison. The highest number that was ever at any prior time in thispenitentiary, was reached on Thanksgiving Day of 1889. In 1836, fifty-four years ago, when this prison was founded, there were eighteenprisoners received the first day. During the year one received a pardon, leaving at the close seventeen prisoners. At the close of 1889 therewere nineteen hundred inmates. As the population of Missouri increases, she is generous enough to contribute her quota to the felon cells withinher borders. The increase of from seventeen at the close of the firstyear to that of nineteen hundred at the close of the last year, speaksvolumes. What can be done to lessen this fearful increase of crime? Itis true that the population of the State has increased amazingly since1836, but crime has increased too rapidly in proportion to the increaseof population. 

When a man, accused of crime, is convicted and sentenced in any of thecourts of the State, a commitment is furnished the sheriff, by theclerk of the court. This document is a writing, giving the name of theprisoner, the crime of which he stands committed, and the term for whichhe is sentenced. It is the authority given the sheriff to convey to thepenitentiary the person named therein, and to deliver him to the warden. As soon as the warden receives the commitment he assumes control ofthe prisoner, and retains it until his term of service expires, or isliberated by pardon or some court decree. It is curious to note howdifferently prisoners act on coming to the penitentiary. Some of themquake with fear and tremble as the aspen leaf. Others weep like whippedchildren. While others do not seem to mind it much. This latter classis chiefly made up of those who have served terms before, and have hadexperience. The officers try to crush the spirit of the criminal thefirst day he enters. The poor culprit, already quaking with fear, isspoken to in a cross and harsh manner, as if he was going to be struckover the head with a club the next moment. He is locked up in thereception cell, a low, dark dungeon. To use the expressive language ofthe prison, he is left in this dungeon to "soak" for an indefinite time, often for a day and a night. In this dreaded spot, in his loneliness andshame he has an opportunity for meditation. I don't suppose there everwas a person who, in this reception cell for the first time, did notheartily regret the commission of his crime. Here he thinks of his pastlife. The days of his innocent childhood come flitting before him. Thefaces of loved ones, many of whom now dead, pass in review. It is herehe thinks of his loving mother, of his kind old father, of his weepingsisters and sympathizing brothers. 

He travels, time and again, the road of his past life. In his reveriesof solitude he sits once more in the old school-house of his boyhooddays. It comes to him, now with greater force than ever before, what hemight have been, had he taken a different course, Alas! it is too late. He is forever disgraced. There is but little hope for him now in thefuture. Reader, behold this unfortunate youth as he sits in his lonelydungeon, his first day in the penitentiary. On a low chair, his elbowsresting on his knees, his face buried in his hands, he sits and tries toimagine what is in store for him. He endeavors to peer into the future, and all is gloom. That sweet angel we call Hope, has spread her wings, taken her flight and left him comfortless. The cloud of despair, blackas the Egyptian midnight, settles down upon him. He wishes that hewas dead. I can never forget my first day in a felon's cell. Of all myeventful life, into which many dark days have crowded themselves, myfirst day in prison was the darkest. After the "soaking season" is over, an officer advances to the dungeon, throws back the bolts, pulls openthe door, and, in a harsh manner, commands the broken-hearted culprit tofollow. He is conducted to an apartment, takes a bath, and dons the suitof stripes. Ye angels! did you ever behold such a sight? Is it not atravesty on every thing that is good to dress a human being in sucha suit of clothes. A striped coat, striped pataloons, striped shirt, striped cap, in fine everything he wears is striped. There is nothingin this world so humiliates a person as being compelled to wear thesestripes. No language can describe the feelings of horror that tookhold upon me the first time I saw myself arrayed in these emblems ofdisgrace. I passed through all the fiery ordeal of trial, sentence, reception cell, undaunted, but when I made my first toilet in thepenitentiary, I must admit, I was "knocked out. " Then I felt keenly thesting of disgrace. The prisoner is next introduced to a convict barber, who shaves him and "clips" his hair. By the time the barber gets throughwith his part of the programme, the prisoner has but little hair eitheron his face or head. The prison physician examines him and it is decidedwhere he is to work. He is next shown the cell he is to occupy, andlater on his place of work. Over his cell is placed his name and number. He now enters upon that indescribable, desolate, and dreary life of aconvict. 

THE TREATMENT OF THE PRISONERS

The inmates of the Missouri penitentiary are well clothed. In thisrespect, this prison has no rival. All the prisoners presented theappearance of being cleanly, so far as their clothing is concerned. Allare dressed in stripes. None are exempt. Here are nearly two thousandmen on an equality. None of them can look down upon others, and say, I am more nicely dressed than you. I never saw a convict dude in theentire lot. The prisoners are well fed. For breakfast, the bill of fareconsists of bread, coffee, without milk or sugar, and hash. There isno change of this bill of fare. If the prisoner has been there for tenyears, if not in the hospital, he has feasted upon hash every morning. Boiled meat, corn bread, potatoes and water make up the dinner, andfor supper the convict has bread, molasses and coffee. The principalobjection to this diet is its monotony. Whenever a change of dietbecomes a strict necessity, the prisoner is permitted to take a fewmeals in the hospital dining-room. Here he receives a first-class meal. This is a capital idea. A great deal of sickness is prevented bythus permitting the convict to have an occasional change of diet. Onholidays, such as Thanksgiving day, Christmas, etc. , an extra dinner isgiven, which is keenly relished by all. I have before me a statement ofthe expenses for a Sunday breakfast and dinner. There are only two mealsgiven on Sunday. The hash was made up of 612 pounds of beef, 90 poundsof bacon, and 30 bushels of potatoes. Fifty-one pounds of coffee wereused, and four and a half barrels of flour. The entire meal cost $68. 38. 

For dinner, 1, 585 pounds of beef, 30 bushels of potatoes, and 4 1/2barrels of flour, were used. This meal cost $100. 61. It costs about tencents each a day to feed the prisoners. Some of the convicts, after theyget their daily tasks performed, do overwork. The contractors paythem small sums for this extra labor. With this money the convict ispermitted to purchase apples from the commissary department, which hecan take to his cell and eat at his leisure. The commissary keeps theseapples on hand at all times in packages, which he sells to the prisonersat twenty cents each. In prison, apples are the most healthful diet theinmate can have. Should friends on the outside desire to send delicaciesto any of the prisoners, they are permitted to receive the same, and, taking them to their cells, eat at their leisure. These luxuries arehighly appreciated by the men in stripes, whose daily food is largelymade up of hash and corn bread. The female prisoners must subsist on thesame kind of food as the males. In some penal institutions, Kansas forexample, the women have better diet than is furnished the men. Not so inthis penitentiary. All are treated alike, so far as food is concerned. 

Three times each day the men march into the large dining-hall, whichaccommodates 1, 500, and partake of their meals. The tableware is of tinand somewhat meager. The tables themselves present the appearance of themodern school-desk, being long enough that twenty men may be comfortablyseated at each. No table-linen is used. When eating, the convict is notpermitted to call for anything he may wish. When a dish is empty it isheld aloft, and an officer or a convict waiter replenishes it. Ampletime is given to eat. All have a sufficiency of food such as it is. Every thing is clean. After the meal is over, the prisoners, in ranks, return to their workshops, or to their cells in case it is the last mealof the day. It is a very interesting sight to witness 1, 500 convictseating at the same time. 

The officials are to be commended for the following privileges theygrant the prisoners: On all holidays, such as Fourth of July, Christmas, etc. , they are let out of their cells into a large open square, insidethe prison walls, and are allowed to converse with each other, andare given full liberty to do as they wish. These are days of freedom. Officers, of course, are among them to see that no fighting occurs, andalso to prevent any from effecting their escape by scaling the walls. The prisoners do certainly enjoy these times. They shake hands with eachother, run about, shout, leap for joy, and have more real happiness thana lot of school-boys who have been shut up in a room all day at theirstudies and are in the evening turned out for play. The men are verycareful not to abuse this privilege which they prize very highly. Therenever have been any disturbances, nor fights, nor attempts atescape during these holidays. These privileges granted the prisonersdemonstrate the humaneness of the prison officials. 

The question often arises, why is it there are no more riots andinsurrections in this prison. Here are nearly two thousand men huddledup together. They are prisoners, suffering the worst kind of bondage. Why is it they do not make a rush for liberty whenever an opportunitypresents itself? Many of them are in for life, and may never again seebeyond their prison walls. Why are they so docile? These questions canbe easily answered. Many of the men are short-time prisoners, havingfrom one to three years, and cannot afford to get into trouble, astheir time is short. Added to this, if the prisoner behaves himself, and obtains a good prison record, he obtains a pardon and restoration tocitizenship when three-fourths of his time has expired. If a man is sentfor ten years, by good conduct he will be pardoned at the end of sevenand a half years. This is a great inducement to good behavior. Thereason the life-men cause but little, if any, disturbance in the prisonis, that they all have a hope sometime or other of receiving a pardon, and they know very well that, if they do not have a good prison record, they can never obtain a pardon. A custom also prevails at the prison, that has much to do in causing the long-time men to behave themselves, and be obedient to the regulations of the institution. Every Fourthof July and Christmas the governor of the State grants pardons to twolong-time men, so there are four chances annually for a man to obtainhis freedom. Before the governor will pardon one of these men, he mustbe satisfied, among other things, that the convict has a good prisonrecord. 

Any one can readily see that this is a great inducement for the prisonerto behave himself. Missouri is the only State, so far as my knowledgeextends, that has this custom. It should become, not only a custom, buta law, in every State. It is founded on good sense. 

THE PRISONER'S SENTENCE

I believe in capital punishment. When a man falls so low as maliciously, willfully and premeditatedly, to take the life of a human being, heshould be hung by the neck until he is dead. Before it is just to imposesuch a sentence as this upon a human being he should have a fair andimpartial trial, which many persons charged with crime do not get. Ifpoor and unable to employ the best legal talent, the court should seethat it is furnished. Too often is it the case when a poor man, chargedwith crime, makes affidavit that he is unable to procure counsel, thatsome young and inexperienced attorney is selected, in order to give hima start in practice. The consequence of this inexperience is that theman charged with crime has to suffer for his lawyer's inability tosecure for him his rights. After the jury has brought in a verdict ofguilty he should have the privilege of taking his case to the SupremeCourt, and have it reviewed by that tribunal at the expense of theState. No human being should be hung on circumstantial evidence, unsupported by positive testimony. If the judgment below is confirmed, then let the murderer be kept in close confinement in the penitentiaryfor one year, and, if during that time no new evidence or mitigatingcircumstances arise let him be hung by the neck until he is dead. 

Let the execution take place in the prison, let it be private andwitnessed by but few persons, designated by the executive of theState. It is better for the criminal to be hung than to be sent to thepenitentiary for life. While serving out a lifetime sentence he suffersten thousand deaths. Those States where the death penalty is inflictedhave the least number of brutal murders, in proportion to theirpopulation. The dread of death is a better protection to society than alife of imprisonment. The fiend with murder in his heart thinks "whilethere is life, hope remains, " and if he is sent to the penitentiary forlife he may get a pardon after a time. But if he is aware of the factthat if he strikes the fatal blow he must atone for his crime on thegallows, he is more liable to think twice before striking his innocentvictim once. There should be no such a thing as a life sentence. Nocriminal should be sent to the penitentiary for a term longer thanfifteen years. The suffering he endures during this long sentence isenough to atone for any crime he may commit aside from a brutal murder, and for this he should be hung. Fifteen years of imprisonment issufficient to break down almost any constitution. Having spent thislength of time behind prison walls a man is a physical wreck, and, having atoned for his crime, let him have the last days of life inthe world of freedom. The greatest desire of a life man in ourpenitentiaries is to die outside of prison walls. No criminal should besent to the penitentiary for less than five years. After giving him onefourth off for good behavior, he has but little more than three years ofactual service. This will give him plenty of time to learn a trade, sothat when he goes out of prison he can make a living for himself and forthose depending upon him. For crimes that require lighter sentences ofimprisonment let jails or reformatories be brought into requisition. Inthe eyes of the world a jail sentence is not so disgraceful as one inthe penitentiary. 

The plumage of a jail-bird is not so black as that of a penitentiarybird. The disgrace of being sent to the penitentiary for one year is asgreat as being sent for five or ten years. Whether he goes for one orfive years, for all the future he is set down as an ex-convict. Peopledo not stop to inquire as to the length of his sentence. The mainquestion is: Was he in the penitentiary? If so, he wears the mark ofCain--the stamp of disgrace. Not so, if he simply has been in jail. There are a great many young men, while surrounded by bad company, yieldto temptation and commit crime. A dose of jail service will do them asmuch good as a year in the penitentiary. After they get out they donot feel the disgrace so keenly, and there is some hope for theirreformation. Send them to the penitentiary and it will be a miracle ifthey ever amount to anything in the future. If a jail sentence of ayear does not reform a young criminal, or a man of older years, who hascommitted his first offense, then give a term in the penitentiary forfive years for the second offense. It is too true that a sentence tothe penitentiary for a first term is the irretrievable ruin of the youngoffender. This becomes an obstacle which, during all the future, hecannot surmount. This plan being adopted let everything be done toreform the youthful offender while in jail. It is much easier to carryforward the work of reformation in a jail or reformatory than in apenitentiary. 

CHAPTER XVII. THE MISSOURI PRISONERS--(Continued)

During the years 1887 and 1888, 1, 523 prisoners were received intothe Missouri penitentiary. Of this number 1, 082 were white males, 398colored males, 17 white females, and 26 colored females. These figuresshow that the women of Missouri are a great deal better than the men, orthey do not get their share of justice. 

 TABLE SHOWING THE AGES OF CONVICTS RECEIVED DURING THE YEARS 1887 AND 1888. 

 From 16 to 20. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 320 " 20 to 25. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 441 " 25 to 30. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 344 " 30 to 35. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 143 " 35 to 40. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 113 " 40 to 45. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 70 " 45 to 50. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 34 " 50 to 55. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 31 " 55 to 60. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 15 " 60 to 65. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 5 " 65 to 70. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 4 " 70 and upward. .. .. .. .. .. . 5 ----

 Total . .. .. .. .. . 1, 523

There is nothing that should interest the good people of Missouri morethan the foregoing table. These appalling figures I copied from theprison records. Of the 1, 523 criminals received during the past twoyears, more than one-fifth of them were mere children. Would it notbe better to give these boys a term in the county jails, or in somereformatory, instead of sending them to a penitentiary? Coming incontact with hardened and vicious criminals, what hope is there forgetting these boys into the paths of honesty and uprightness? Then therefollows the large number of 441, representing the youthful age fromtwenty to twenty-five years. These are the years most prolific ofcriminals. Who can say these boys are vicious and hardened criminals?Then follow the young men of from twenty-five to thirty. Three hundredand fourty-four of this age find a home in felon cells. Are these boysand young men not worth saving? What can be done to snatch them froma career of crime, and to save them from becoming miserable wrecks?Father, if one of these boys was a son of yours, you would thinkseriously over this important question. 

Something should be done to save this large army of youth who areannually finding their way into felon cells. 

Is the penitentiary the proper place to send those youthful offenders?If so, then they should not come in contact with the older and hardenedcriminals. One of the most essential things to be done in a prison isthe classification of the inmates. This is not done in the Missouripenitentiary. Here the mere youth often cells with a hardened oldcriminal of the worst description. I would rather a child of mine wouldbe boxed up with a rattlesnake. In this institution there are nearly2, 000 criminals huddled up together--an indiscriminate mass. Theofficials are not to blame for this. They realize the terriblecondition of things at the prison. They have not sufficient room for theclassification and proper arrangement of the inmates. They know, perhapsbetter than anyone else, that the prison is not what it should be. Warden Marmaduke says, in his last report to the prison directors, "Thisprison is now too much crowded and it becomes a serious question atonce, as to what disposition will be made of them in the future. If thisprison is to accommodate them, another cell building should be built atonce. If another prison is to be the solution, it should be commenced. If a reconstruction of our criminal laws, looking to the reduction ofcrime, it should be done now. And in any event, and whatever may bedone, certainly our management of prisons should be so modified orchanged that the practical, not the sentimental system of reform, should be adopted. I believe that our present system is making criminalsinstead of reforming them, and I believe that it is practicable to soclassify, treat, feed, work and uniform these people, as to make bettermen instead of worse men out of them. I have profound respect for thegood purposes of the benevolently disposed men and women, and theyare numerous, who are devoting themselves to the effort of reformingcriminals. Yet their efforts must be supplemented by a practicalbuilding up and the development of the better instincts of the man, which cannot be done under our present system. The surroundings areagainst it. We are constantly developing and stimulating the veryworst instincts. I believe it practicable to institute methods for thisreform, at once creditable to the State. " Who can doubt our statementson this subject when we quote such high authority as the above. The lastwarden of this great institution comes out and officially announces thatawful fact that our present system of prison treatment is constantlydeveloping and stimulating the very worst instincts. Constantly makingmen worse, and when a young man enters the prison he is morally tainted, when he goes out he is completely saturated, with moral pollution. After such statements from so high an authority will the great Stateof Missouri, so well-known the world over for her numerous acts ofbenevolence, continue to have an institution within her borders for thecomplete demoralization and ruin of multitudes of her young men. Shoulda youth of Missouri, surrounded by influences and temptations whichhe could not resist, once fall from a position of honor and integrity, although it is his first violation of the law, he will be taken intocustody of the State, hurled into a pit, where for a time he will inhalethe fetid breath of wickedness, then, later on, to be released and sentout into the free world a moral leper. 

The State should not provide this machine for the moral destructionof her unfortunate youth. If this be the real and true condition ofaffairs, what can be done to change them? I would suggest the erection, at once, of a reformatory. Classify the prisoners. Let those who are infor the first offense be separated from those who are professional anddebased criminals. Give these youthful offenders the benefit of schools, connected with the reformatory. Let them have moral instruction, andmany of these young men will be reclaimed, However well a criminal istreated, when behind prison walls, however good the advantages grantedhim, all this will avail but little, if some provision is not made toaid him when he leaves the prison. Many prisoners, at the time of theirdischarge, may be, in heart, as pure as angels, and resolve to leadgood lives, yet they are convicts, and carry out with them the shame anddisgrace of such a life. They must live even if they are disgraced. Theymust have work. Who will employ a convict? Should a man, just fromthe prison, come to you and frankly inform you that he was recentlydischarged from a felon's cell, that he had been convicted ofhorse-stealing, for instance, and wanted employment with you on thefarm, how many of you, my readers, would give him work? You would beafraid of him. You would decline his services, and who could blameyou? But the convict must live, and it is easily seen, how, that afterapplying to several for work and being refused each time on account ofhis past trouble, he would, after a time, become discouraged and returnto a life of a criminal. Hunger drives him to deeds of desperation, andmore especially is this the case if he have a wife or helpless childrendepending upon him. On his discharge from the prison the State presentshim, with a shoddy suit of clothes (very cheap), buys him a ticketfor the town from which he came, and then lets him shift for himself. Disgraced, penniless, friendless, helpless, how is it possible foranyone of them ever to secure another foothold in life. 

Something should be done, to help these men to secure work for a timeafter their discharge from prison. This would prevent a vast majority ofcriminals from returning to the prison after their first term. That myviews on this subject may not be considered visionary, and that I maynot be regarded as standing alone in my suggestions, I will give aportion of the report of Rev. J. Gierlow, ex-chaplain of the Missouripenitentiary. 

"The increase of crime is necessarily attracting the attention of allthinking people, and there is abundant evidence that crime-causes areincreasing, for which there seems to be no adequate prevention. It hasbeen said, that nearly all crime originates in the saloon, but thisstatement requires discrimination. Very few professional thieves areinebriates. That class of criminals are sober men, they could not plytheir trade without a clear head, nor do they go with those who drink, for they talk too much. No, intemperance to a considerable extent, isonly a secondary cause of crime which must be reached by well-ordered, sanitary, hygienic and educational measures. Diseased bodies andunbalanced minds are largely characteristic of criminals; and these aretwo factors in producing crime. 

"There is a numerous class in whom crime seems to be hereditary, a taintin the blood. In the same family there are generations of criminals. Prison life adds another large section to the criminal class. By thecongregate system the prison becomes a school of crime, where the youngoffender is both demoralized by contact with hardened criminals, andinitiated into the mysteries of professional villainy. It is a questionwhether detention in prison, without remedial influences, is not moreof a loss than a gain. The critical time of a prisoner, desirous ofbuilding up a new life, is when he crosses the threshold of the prisonand goes out into the world. He is met with distrust wherever his pastis known. He is in constant terror of exposure if he tries to keep itsecret. And what does the State do to put him on his feet or to givehim a chance? It gives him a few dollars to carry him here or there, and bids him shift for himself. And finding every avenue of honestemployment closed against him, he is driven in desperation, however welldisposed he may be, to renew his criminal habits and associates. What, then, are the remedies, as far as the prison system is concerned?Chiefly, classification. Let not one who desires to reform be compelledto associate with those who are almost sure to degrade and debase him. The neglect of discriminating classification of offenders is a darkstain upon civilization. Then, again, I believe it to be the duty of theState to reinstate the penitentiary man in society. This may be securedby a conditional discharge, the finding of work for him, and theobligation to report himself at stated periods to the proper authority. 

I have regarded it as within the province of my office to thus brieflyset forth what I have gathered from experience in my intercourse withconvicts, as well as from sober conviction, after mature deliberation. Let the State consider and act. 

 TABLE SHOWING SENTENCES OF CONVICTS DURING THE YEARS 1887 AND 1888. 

 Years. Mos. No. 

 1 2 1 . .. 14 1 6 1 2 . .. 745 2 3 1 2 6 15 2 8 8 3 . .. 296 3 6 8 4 . .. 86 4 4 1 4 6 1 5 . .. 164 6 . .. 12 7 . .. 21 8 . .. 6 10 . .. 72 11 . .. 3 12 . .. 8 13 . .. 1 14 . .. 1 15 . .. 13 18 . .. 2 20 . .. 10 21 . .. 2 22 . .. 1 25 . .. 13 30 . .. 2 35 . .. 1 38 . .. 2 48 . .. 1 50 . .. 2 99 . .. 4 Life . .. 4 ---- Total 1523

I have here inserted the foregoing table to show the reader about howthe sentences are. It will be observed that of the one thousand fivehundred and twenty-three prisoners admitted during the past two years, seven hundred and forty-five of them, or nearly one-half, have but atwo-years' sentence. This shows that the crimes committed were not very"horrible in their nature, " or the sentences imposed would have beenmore severe. This is probably the first offense for these offenders. Bygood conduct in the prison one-fourth of their time will be deducted. This will give them but eighteen months of actual service. What can theyaccomplish in so short a time? The contractors care but little for them, since their time will expire before they can master a trade and be ofany service. Had these youthful offenders been given a term in a countyjail or reformatory, would not justice been satisfied, and there wouldhave been more hope for the prisoner as to the future. HE WOULD NOT HAVEBEEN A PENITENTIARY CONVICT. I hope soon to see the day when the greatState of Missouri will have a reformatory institution which will receivethe wayward youth of that great commonwealth, and, after keeping andtraining them for a time, will send them out into the world stronger andbetter men than when first received. So far as reformation is concerned, the Missouri penitentiary is a dismal failure. 

CHAPTER XVIII. PRISON DISCIPLINE

The Missouri penitentiary ranks among the leading penal institutionsof the country in matter of discipline. The rules and regulations areplaced in the hands of the prisoner as soon as he enters. If an inmateobeys these rules and regulations he will be let alone, and will gothrough his term of service without being punished. If he becomes unrulyand disobedient he will be punished, and that, too, very severely. 

Each prisoner is allowed one pound of tobacco a month for chewing andsmoking purposes. In this prison the inmate is permitted to smoke inhis cell. This is the only institution with which I am acquainted thatpermits smoking. The prisoners seem to enjoy their smoke very much, and I do not see but that it is just the thing, for if a person on theoutside takes comfort from the use of his pipe, much more will the manwho sits in the solitude of a felon's cell. If a prisoner violates aprison rule his tobacco is taken away from him for a time. The majorityof the inmates will obey the rules of the prison through fear of havingtheir tobacco, taken away from them. Each prisoner also has access tothe books of the library, and another mode of punishment is to deprivethe offender the use of the library for a time. This, also, has a verysalutary effect. Another mode of punishment, is to place the unrulyconvict in a dungeon and feed him nothing but bread and water. Theprisoner on entering this dreary abode must leave behind him his hat, coat and shoes, and in this condition he is required often to spend daysand weeks in solitary confinement. The dungeon contains no furniture ofany description save a night bucket. Prisoners do not remain in thesedark holes very long until they promise obedience. It is one of themost successful modes of prison punishment. In case of a second orthird offense, and sometimes for the first, in case it is a bad one, theoffender is liable to receive a flogging. 

This is one of the few penal institutions in our country where thecat-o'-nine-tails is used. When a prisoner's conduct has been such thatit is deemed advisable to whip him, he is taken from his cell and ledto a post in the rear of one of the large buildings, out of sight of theother convicts. His clothing is then removed, with the exception of hisshoes. These are left on his feet to catch the blood that flows down hislimbs. In this nude condition he is tightly bound to a post with chains. Standing at the post, in a helpless condition, he receives the lash. Thewhip consists of several leather straps, or thongs, at the ends of whichsmall pieces of steel are fastened. Every blow brings the blood. I havebeen told by reliable persons that, at times, prisoners have been soseverely flogged that the blood, flowing down their limbs into theirshoes would fill them and run out over the tops. This seems barbarous inthe extreme, and my humane reader at once cries out, "It should not betolerated. " In Missouri this flogging of human beings in prison has beengoing on for more than fifty years. After the punishment is over, theprisoner, half dead with fright and pain, is led back to his cell, wherehe remains for a day or two, that he may recuperate. He throws himselfdown on his "bunk, " and remains there for hours, the blood still flowingfrom his lacerated back. Often the blanket on which he lies, sticks tohis bleeding back, and a fellow convict is asked, often, to assist inremoving it. Many a poor fellow carries with him through life the scarswhich were made while a convict in this prison. One day while I wasworking in the coal mines of the Kansas penitentiary, a fellow-convictshowed me his scarred back. He had served a term in the Missouripenitentiary, and while there had been severely whipped. His back toldthe story too plainly that his whipping had been a severe and cruel one. It would seem that the day of the whipping-post had passed away; thatthe doors of our advanced civilization were shut against it. 

Many of the prison officials claim that it is the most healthy mode ofinflicting punishment; that to place a convict in a dungeon and to feedhim on bread and, water is far more injurious to his health than to givehim a good "paddling, " and it don't require so long to do the work. The same results are reached more quickly. Others claim that it isimpossible to have good prison discipline without resorting to the lash. This statement is not correct. There is no better discipline to be foundin any penal institution, than that in the Kansas penitentiary, whereno prisoner ever receives a stroke from a whip. The laws of that Stateforbid it. In our humble judgment it would be the best thing that theMissouri Legislature could do at its next session, to prohibit anyfurther use of the lash. Sometimes a paddle is used, with small holesbored in the end, and every time this paddle strikes the nude flesh, blisters are raised. Again, another instrument of punishment in use is athick, broad, leather strap, fastened in a wooden handle, at the end ofwhich lateral incisions are made that give it the appearance of asaw. There is no trouble in raising huge blisters "with this engineof warfare. " All these modes are barbarous, and should be forbidden. Whenever severe punishment becomes essential, let the prisoner remain inthe dungeon, living on bread and water until he promises, in good faith, to behave himself. A great deal of useless punishment can be avoidedif the officer in charge of the prison discipline is a humane man anda good judge of human nature, and no other should be permitted tofill this important position. We must not, however, be too hasty incondemning prison officials for harsh treatment of those under theircharge. They have some of the most desperate men on the face of theearth to deal with, and at times it becomes a necessity to use harshmeasures. Notwithstanding this is all true, there are but very few humanbeings but what have white spots in their otherwise darkened souls, andoften a word of kindness does more than a cruel blow from a mercilessofficer. 

The excellent discipline of this institution is due, in the main, toCaptain Bradbury, the deputy warden. He is beyond doubt, one of thebest, and most experienced prison men in the United States. He has beenconnected with the Missouri prison for thirty-three years. The wardenlooks after the finances of the institution, and it belongs to CaptainBradbury to hold in subjection the two thousand criminals that arecrowded together in that small prison enclosure. This celebrated deputywarden is a Virginian by birth. He is sixty-two years of age. He servedin the Mexican war, and now draws a pension from the Government, becauseof his services there. If a prisoner conducts himself properly, CaptainBradbury will treat him as humanely as he can under the circumstances. If he becomes willful and unruly, the Captain no doubt will take greatpleasure in giving the offender "a good paddling, " to use his ownforcible expression. This official is a strong advocate of corporalpunishment. He claims that a "little loosening up of the hide" of anobstreperous prisoner does the said prisoner a vast amount of good. Among the convicts the deputy warden is austere. He is never seensauntering about the prison enclosure with his long arms entwined aboutany of "the boys in stripes. " He claims, that too great a familiaritybreeds contempt. This seeming harshness when in the presence ofthe prisoners is only borrowed for the occasion, for, away from theconvicts, there is not a more social gentleman in the State of Missouri. Great credit is due to Captain Bradbury for his excellent managementof this institution, under such unfavorable circumstances. Could he bepersuaded to quit the use of the whipping post, and use other measuresless barbarous, I think the same discipline could be secured, as nowexists. The officers here do not seem to be so exacting as in many otherprisons. In the Kansas penitentiary, when prisoners are in ranks goingto and from their meals, their cells, or workshops, they are requiredto fold their arms, and keep their eyes fixed upon the back of the one'shead just in front. No gazing about is permitted, and should a prisonerspeak to one in the front of him and be detected, he would be summarilydealt with. In the Missouri prison I noticed that the convicts whilemarching would gaze about wherever they wished, and go swinging alongwith their arms dangling at their sides. In many prisons the inmates arerequired, while in ranks, to keep their hands on the shoulders of theman in front. This would seem to be the most desirable way of havingthe prisoners march. In this prison one can detect more of a homelikefeeling, not so rigorous and exacting as in many institutions of thisnature. Captain Todd, assistant deputy warden, is another official oflong standing. He has been with this prison for eighteen years, and isvery popular. In this connection we must not fail to mention CaptainCrump, who has been connected with this prison for thirty-six years, butwho was discharged during the last administration because of his makingstatements to the effect that the prison was run by a "political ring. "He is now deputy marshal of Jefferson City, and is a faithful officer. He incurred the displeasure of the contractors because of the gravecharges he made against them, because of their inhuman demands upon theprisoners, requiring of them more work than they were able to perform. Because of his humaneness, and because he wanted to see the helplessprisoner treated as he should be, after thirty-six years of faithfulservice was discharged from the institution. In 1883 there was aninvestigation made of many serious charges preferred against thecontractors and some of the leading officials. The committee made theirreport to the governor, and some five hundred pamphlets containing thisreport were printed for distribution. When the Legislature met noneof these books could be found, and the whole matter was a specimen ofwhitewash. The report contained some very damaging charges, but nothingwas ever done with the matter. I visited the office of the secretary ofstate and asked to see one of these books, but even his office did notcontain a copy of this State document. The Legislature should keep awatchful eye over this penal institution, and, while there should begood discipline maintained, the prisoners should not be treated in abarbarous manner. 

A PARDONING BOARD

The governor has the pardoning power. He extends executive clemency to anumber annually. He has not time to attend to the duties connected withthis prerogative. There are 2, 000 prisoners. No doubt many of them haveexcessive sentences. If a thorough investigation was made, many wouldbe found innocent. The governor has not the time to attend to thesematters. There should be a pardoning board appointed to investigatethese cases and advise with the governor. To show the necessity of sucha board, I have only to state that during the past year the PardoningBoard of Kansas has advised executive clemency to fifteen criminals whoreceived their pardons on the grounds of innocency. One of the numberbeing a Mrs. Henrietta Cook, who was sentenced for life, and who hadserved fifteen years of imprisonment, when, upon an investigation of hercase by the Pardoning Board, she was discharged, there being no doubtas to her innocence. The great majority of these prisoners are poorand friendless. They have no one on the outside to aid them in securingtheir rights, and unless a pardoning board is appointed to investigatethese cases, many a man and woman entirely innocent, will have to serveout a sentence in this prison. 

It is but natural for the contractors to use their influence toprevent the men under their control from receiving pardons. If a manis sentenced for ten years, and has been in one of the shops for two orthree years, and has learned to do his work well, the contractor willwant to keep him instead of letting him go, and will, no doubt, in anunderhanded way, do all against the poor prisoner he can. This stronginfluence in many cases will have to be counteracted and overcome beforethe prisoner can receive his pardon and obtain his liberty. A pardoningboard, when appointed, should be men who would not be in collusion withthe contractors, but be men who would see that the prisoner had justice. 

CHAPTER XIX. NOTED CONVICTS

At the present time there are fifty-six females who find homes in thisliving tomb. Two-thirds of them are colored. The greater portion arekept busy making underclothing for the prisoners. They are detained, during working hours, in a room, seated at tables, with a lady guardwatching them. They are not allowed to converse with each other, only asthey get permission from this officer. They are not permitted to see themale prisoners. In fact there is no way of entering the female prisonfrom the male department. The dormitory is on the third floor. Thefemale convicts wear striped calico dresses, the stripes runninglengthwise. The female prison is kept scrupulously clean, which reflectsgreat credit upon those having the management of this department. 

In company with Doctor Lewellyn, the prison physician, I passed throughthe dormitory. Here I found a great curiosity. It was a baby prisoner, six months old. The little convict was born in the penitentiary. It isa colored child--its mother being a mulatto, who was sent to prison forfifteen years for murdering two of her children. When on the outside, she lived with her paramour, a white man, and, as fast as children wereborn to them, she would murder them in cold blood. The white man wastried also as accessory to the murder, but, owing to her refusal totestify against him, there was not sufficient evidence to convict him, and he was set at liberty. He often visits her at the prison, bringingher eatables, which are very much relished in the penitentiary. I sawalso the notorious Sadie Hayes, who was sent up from St. Louis forkilling a policeman. She was under the influence of strong drink, and, thus crazed with whisky, the officer tried to arrest her. She drew arazor, and began to slash away at the officer, and, in spite of his cluband large, muscular frame, she soon cut him to pieces. He expired onthe sidewalk, where the engagement took place. She was sent up forninety-nine years, and has now been in prison about three years. Sheis one of the most desperate looking women I ever saw, and, when crazedwith drink, becomes an infuriated demon. She is an adept in the use ofthe razor. 

The oldest female prisoner is an aged German woman by the name ofOldstein, from Gasconade County. She has been in the penitentiarythirteen years, and, doubtless, would get a pardon if she had any placewhere she could make her home after securing her liberty. The old womanis entirely broken down and is a physical wreck. She spends the most ofher time knitting. Aside from keeping her own bedding clean she isnot required to perform any labor. She was charged with a cold-bloodedmurder. She, her husband and daughter murdered her daughter's husband. The old man was hung, the daughter was sent up for life, and died in afew months after entering prison. The old woman was sentenced to be hungalso with her husband, but the governor commuted her sentence to that oflife imprisonment. For thirteen long, dreary years she has lived behindthese prison walls. She longs for death, but death refuses, as yet, toclaim her as his own. Broken in health, friendless, penniless, thispoor old woman is but another proof that "the way of the transgressoris hard. " I also saw Anna Brown, another female prisoner, who, with herstep-brother, planned and carried into execution a terrible cold-bloodedmurder. It was none other than the killing of her aged father. Theboy was sent to prison for life and the woman received a sentenceof forty-nine years. Her sentence might just as well have read "lifeimprisonment" as forty-nine years, for she cannot live but a few yearslonger in confinement. Nannie Stair is another interesting prisoner. Shecame from Vernon County. An old and crippled man was driving through thecountry. Night coming on found him near the house of the Stair family. He stopped and asked for a night's lodging. His request was granted. That was the old man's last night of earth. During the hours of thenight Stair and his wife made their way into the bed-chamber where thehelpless traveler lay asleep unconscious of his doom. It was not longuntil the husband sent an axe crushing through his brain, his wifestanding by, a witness to the fearful deed. During the same night theydug his grave in the garden back of the house, and buried him. Next daythe husband drove the murdered man's team to a town not far distant, andsold it. In a couple of weeks friends began to institute search for themissing man. He was traced to the home of the Stair family. The husbandand wife being separated, and the officers telling the wife that shewould be let out of the scrape without much punishment in case she wouldtell all she knew, she informed them of all the details of the bloodydeed, where the victim lay buried, and what disposition was made ofthe murdered man's team and money. The two were arrested, tried andconvicted. The husband was hung, and the wife sent to the penitentiaryfor six years. Her time will now soon be served out, and she will oncemore be a free woman. The desire of this family to obtain filthy lucrewas too great. Of the fifty-six female inmates of of the Missouripenitentiary, fifteen of them were sent for murder. Kansas City hasseveral female representatives. It is stated, on good authority, thatthe sentences imposed by the judges of the Kansas City district are farmore excessive than in any other portion of the State. I was told thata number of these female convicts were very desperate characters, whileothers of them, driven to deeds of desperation on account of poverty, committed acts that for a time placed them behind prison bolts andbars. Something should be done to aid these poor women, when their termsexpire, to get a start in life. If something is not done for them, itwill be but a short time when they will drift back again into crime andprison. 

The author of this book believes that it is all right to send moneyto India and other remote countries to aid the heathen, but instead ofsending it all away to lands beyond the seas, he thinks a portion ofit, at least, could be well expended this side the briny deep in helpingsome of these poor unfortunate convicts to get another start in life, and thus lift them out of a life of crime. 

WHISKY AND CARDS

Felix Bagan's history shows the career of many a boy, when thrown intobad company. At an early age Felix was left an orphan. When his parentsboth died he had not a relative living that cared anything for him. Taken from the grave of his mother, who died shortly after the death andburial of her husband, the unfortunate lad was placed in the orphan'shome in St. Louis. Here he remained for several years, and acquired allthe education that he possessed. After becoming old enough to do somework, he was given to a farmer, who took him to his home in the country. Possessed of a genial disposition, he soon made many friends. He washighly esteemed by the lady and gentleman who adopted him. He was honestand industrious. It was on election day that his down-fall took place. In company with several young men, who resided on neighboring farms, he went to a small town near by to pass the day. Being invited toparticipate in a game of cards, he and several of his companions foundtheir way into the back part of a saloon, where the day was spent indrinking and gambling. Toward evening a dispute arose about the cards, a drunken fight was the result. Bagan, half crazed with drink, drew hisknife and stabbed to the death one of his companions. The young man whomhe murdered, prior to this had been one of his best friends. When he sawthe life-blood of his companion ebb away, he came to his senses, andwas soon sober. He wept like a child when he saw his friend sinking awayinto, the arms of death. The awful deed was done, and nothing was leftto the unfortunate youth but to be led away to prison, with the blood ofa human being upon his garments. In due time he had his trial, and wassent to the penitentiary for thirty years. He was twenty-two yearsof age when he received the sentence. He has now been in the prisonthirteen years. For seven years he worked in the saddle-tree shop forSullivan, Hayes & Co. , prison contractors. At the end of that time hishealth failing, he refused to work. The prison authorities thoughthe was trying to shirk his work. After being severely flogged, he wasplaced in the dungeon and kept there in solitary confinement for threemonths. Half dead, he was taken to the hospital and left in the handsof the prison physician. For a time it was thought he would die. Aftera while he began to recover; large patches of hair fell from his scalp, leaving his head thickly covered with bald spots. When he enteredthe prison he was a fine-appearing young man, but thirteen years ofimprisonment have converted him into a broken-down old man and physicalwreck. That was a sad day for that unfortunate youth when he entered thesaloon to take part in the game of cards. He will not live to the end ofhis sentence, but will die in the penitentiary, and find his last, longhome in the prison grave-yard. Young man, as you read the history ofthis convict, can you not persuade yourself to let whisky and cardsalone for the future?

BILL RYAN

Passing through the cell houses, I was shown the room occupied by thenotorious Bill Ryan for seven years. He was a member of the James boys'gang. Being convicted of highway robbery he was sent to the prisonfor twenty years. After Jesse James had been killed by young Ford, andFrank's crimes had been pardoned, Ryan's sentence was commuted to tenyears, and after serving seven he regained his liberty. 

Ryan was accredited with being one of the best prisoners in thepenitentiary. On the outside, if reports be true, he was one of the mostdesperate men in Missouri. His time was spent in drinking, gambling, quarreling, fighting and killing. He is charged with killing a numberof men. He was twice tried for murder, but proving an alibi, the jurybrought in a verdict of "not guilty. " The prison officials speak in thehighest terms of his conduct while an inmate of the penitentiary. He wasan obedient and hard-working convict. Now that he is once more a freeman it is to be hoped that he will show himself as good a citizen on theoutside, as he was on the inside, of prison walls. 

WILLIE HILDRUM

This youthful convict is but sixteen years of age. He is the youngestprisoner in the penitentiary. He was formerly a boot-black on thestreets of St. Louis. Getting into a fight one day with one of hisboot-black companions over a nickel that they had jointly earned"shining up" a patron's boots, young Hildrum drew an old knife from hispocket, which he had found a few days before, and sent the rusty bladeinto the heart of the street Arab. The youthful murderer was tried andconvicted of manslaughter, and on account of his youth was given but twoyears in the penitentiary. 

S. D. HENSON

This convict was at one time county judge of Stoddard County, and highlyrespected. He is one of the finest appearing men I ever saw. His finelyshaped head bespeaks intelligence. It is sad to see such grand lookingspecimens dressed in the garb of disgrace. Judge Henson became involvedin a quarrel with one of his neighbors over some trivial matter, andkilled him. His sentence is for twenty years, which for him at thisadvanced age means death in the prison. Great efforts are being putforth for his pardon, but it is a question left entirely with thegovernor, and no one can tell how he may act. 

Judge Henson is not at heart a criminal. On that open countenancethere is no mark of Cain. Thinking of his sad case, more than ever amI convinced that we are creatures of circumstances. How many ofmy readers, had they in the past, been surrounded by the samecircumstances, subject to the same temptations, would not have acted inthe same manner, and like judge Henson found a home in a convict's cell. 

FORTY-EIGHT YEARS A PRISONER

John Hicks is the veteran penitentiary convict of the United States. Under an alias he served one term in the Missouri penitentiary. Most ofhis time has been spent in prisons further east. He is now eighty-fouryears of age, and quite recently was released from the Michigan Citypenitentiary. Prison authorities have compared notes and find that hehas actually served forty-eight years of prison life. He is the oldestliving criminal in this country. He has served ten terms, the greaterportion of them being in Indiana. His first crime was committed in 1839. In some way he learned that a man named Bearder had $360 in his house. While the family were at church Hicks rifled the house and stole theirmoney. A marked coin led to his conviction, and he got a three years'sentence. He was never, afterward, out six months at a time, and wassent up successively for burglary, criminal assault, robbery, larceny, cattle-stealing and horse-stealing. At the expiration of his fifth term, at Michigan City, he made his way to the office, where the directorswere in session. He begged them to allow him to build a shanty in a partof the prison in which he could sleep and call his home. All that heasked was that the scraps from the table be given him for food. Theboard refused to allow him this, and Hicks bade them good-by. He walkedto a small town near by, where he soon was arrested for thieving, andwas taken to prison to serve what he declared to be his last term. Hishead is as white as snow, and in keeping with his long, flowing beard, and he looks like a patriarch, yet is not stooped a particle. His desirenow is to secure honest work, that will guarantee him a home. He wishesto spend the rest of his days a free man. Had this man been assistedjust a little at the expiration of his first term, he might have becomea useful citizen, but as it was, his life was spent behind the bars. When once the feet find themselves walking in the pathway of crime, it is very difficult for them ever to walk in paths of honesty anduprightness thereafter. 

NINE TIMES

As I was walking through the penitentiary, in company with Deputy WardenBradbury, he pointed out an old convict, and said, "There is a fellowthat has seen prison life. He is here this time under the name ofGus Loman. He is now serving his NINTH term in this prison. At theexpiration of one of his sentences he went away and was gone over ayear, and when he came back I asked him where he had been so long. Hisreply was, 'Simply rusticating at Joliet, Ill. , with some friends. 'Every time he is sent to prison he gives in a new and different nameand, of course, no one but himself knows what his real name is. " Whenasked why he comes to the prison so often, he remarked that, when oncein prison it is impossible to get work to do on the outside, and he hadmade up his mind to spend the rest of his days in prison. He claimedthat the fates were against him and he could not make a living on theoutside, as no one would employ him; that he had tried it several timesand failed, and now he had given up all hope. He is a bold, bad andnatural thief. As soon as his term is out he goes a little distance fromthe prison, gets on a spree, gets into trouble, steals something, and soon finds himself back again in the penitentiary. He is now overseventy years of age, and is both a physical and moral wreck. What anawful warning for the young is the history of such a wasted life. 

DESPERADO JOHNSON

This convict is the most daring and desperate criminal in the Missouripenitentiary. The prison authorities have had more trouble with him thanwith any other man who ever found a home behind the walls of this greatinstitution. He was sent up from Jackson County, and was charged withmurdering two men before he was finally convicted of crime. On trial forthese two murders be was successful in proving an alibi. The last timehe was not so successful, and received a sentence of twelve years. Soonafter his arrival at the prison he was set to work in one of the shops. When he became a little acquainted, his innate cussedness induced him toraise a riot in the prison. It was a desperate undertaking, but he wasequal to the emergency. For days and weeks he was on the alert, and whena guard was not on the watch he would communicate with a convict, andenlist his services, and give him his instructions as to what part heshould perform when the signal should be given. 

At last the day came when all was ready for the plans so well laid to becarried into execution. Each of the convicts who were to act in concertwith him piled up a lot of kindling in their respective shops andsaturated it with kerosene. When the prisoners were being marched outto supper, they threw matches into the piles of kindling-wood, and soonseveral buildings were on fire. Intense excitement now prevailed amongthe two thousand convicts. The ranks were quickly broken, and all wasconfusion. Some of the better disposed convicts tried to assist theofficers in putting out the fires, and were in turn knocked down andtrampled upon by those who were in favor of the riot. In the midst ofthis great excitement Johnson, the leader, with four of his associates, knocked down one of the guards and stripped him of his clothing. Johnsonput on this suit of blue and started to one of the towers. Reaching thesame, he asked permission of the officer on duty to let down the ladderand allow him to ascend and assist him in "holding the fort, " as thiswas Captain Bradbury's orders. Johnson's intentions were to get on topof the wall and into the tower, where the guard opened the large gatebelow by the use of a lever. The convict, once inside the tower, wouldknock the officer down, seize his gun, raise the lever, throw open thelarge gate in the wall, and permit the prisoners all to rush out. Thiswas a bold scheme, and it is a wonder, during the great excitementthat prevailed, that it was not successful. The officer on duty, whenrequested by the convict to allow him to ascend the ladder, coolly drewhis gun, and told him if he dared to ascend he would send buckshot intohis body. 

Foiled in this, the desperado returns to where the officials arefighting the flames, and began cutting the hose so as to stop the supplyof water. The fire raged furiously. A strong wind sprung up addingintensity to the flames. Over $200, 000 worth of property was soonswept away in this direful storm of fire. After a fearful conflict theprisoners were overpowered and driven into their cells. 

A number of them were severely wounded. Several died of the injuriesreceived. The prison directors had a called meeting and investigatedthe riot. The blame fell upon convict Johnson. A criminal charge waspreferred against him in the courts, for arson. He was convicted andserved an additional sentence of twelve years. This, added to his formersentence, makes twenty-four years of imprisonment for this desperado. When he was taken out of the penitentiary to stand trial for settingfire to the prison, he was heavily loaded with chains, and in thecustody of six prison officials. It was feared he would make a desperateeffort to escape during this trial. On his return to the prison he wasplaced in a dark dungeon, and has been kept caged up ever since, like awild beast. When he is given exercise he wears a ball and chain and anofficer walks immediately behind him, with a loaded Winchester, readyto shoot him down if he makes any bad breaks. The officials are verycareful when they enter his cell for any purpose, as he is liable tokill them. Captain Bradbury, the deputy warden, in speaking ofhim, says, he is the most desperate criminal he has met during histhirty-three years of prison experience. 

HENRY BUTLER, a colored representative of Pettis County, has served the longestconsecutive term of any of the male prisoners. Henry killed his man, and for this mistake has been doing service for the State of Missouri"without money and without price" for the past fifteen years. The storyof his downfall is very romantic. He was a married man, and the fatherof an interesting family. There lived near him a young lady of color, very handsome and attractive, so the story goes, and for whom Henryhad a great liking. There was nothing wrong about all this, perhaps, if Henry had not permitted his affections to go too far. Instead ofadmiring this dusky maiden at a distance, as he should have done, he brought her to his home, and cared for her there in a mannertoo affectionate for the tastes of his colored neighbors. Henry wasremonstrated with, but to no purpose. At the close of church servicesone moonlight Sunday evening his neighbors held an indignation meeting, and it was resolved to put a stop to Henry's little love scheme, asit was now very evident that his wife was getting tired of having themaiden about her so much. The meeting adjourned that evening to have thenext one the following night at Henry's front gate. During the ensuingday he was apprised of the intentions of his callers, and was urged tolet the young lady depart from under his roof. Henry refused, since loveis blind. He got his shotgun in readiness to protect his home and hisrights. At the appointed hour some twenty-five or thirty neighborsgathered at the place selected, and demanded of Henry that he shouldgive up the maiden loved, or pull hemp. At this juncture Henry calledinto requisition his double-barreled shotgun and turned both barrelsloose on the excited throng. The result was a stampede, one negro killedand two wounded. For this brave deed he was arrested, tried and sentto prison for life. In solitude for fifteen years, Henry has had theprivilege of thinking of his illicit love, none of his former neighborsdaring to molest him or make him afraid. 

The case of a prisoner who was in the Missouri prison under the name of

GEORGE ELLIS

is very remarkable. Over in Kansas a cold-blooded murder had beencommitted. It seemed impossible for the authorities to discover anytrace of the murderer. Shortly after this murder had been committed, Ellis was arrested and tried in Missouri on a charge of horse-stealing, and got a two years' sentence. He heard of this murder having beencommitted in Kansas, and, for some reason best known to himself, hewent to Deputy Warden Bradbury and confidentially told him that hehad committed the offense, and asked him to notify the authorities ofKansas. This was done and a pardon was granted Ellis that he might betaken to Kansas and tried for murder. No doubt, Ellis' motive in statingthat he was guilty of this offense was to get out of the penitentiary. He supposed that after getting pardoned out of the Missouri prison, hewould have no trouble in proving an alibi in the Kansas murder case, and in this way go free. He was taken to Kansas, tried, and failed toestablish his alibi, and was found guilty of murder and sentenced to thepenitentiary for life. If Ellis was guilty of murder, he surely wouldnot have told on himself and exchanged a two years' sentence in theMissouri prison for a life sentence in the Kansas penitentiary. He is, no doubt, innocent of this crime, but should serve a few years in theKansas institution because of his smartness. 

THE SUICIDE

A young man by the name of John Welch was sent from Stoddard County foran heinous offense, under a sentence of ten years. His family were amongthe best people of that county, and highly respected. John proved tobe a black lamb of the flock. He had not been in prison but a few weekswhen he got enough of that kind of living, and, being unable to havehis resignation accepted, he concluded to end his career by committingsuicide. It was on a beautiful Sunday morning, and the prisoners havingbeen to religious services, were on their way back to their cells tospend the rest of the day in solitude. The chapel where the serviceswere held is in the third story of a large brick structure. An ironstairway is attached to the wall on the outside of the building. It wasdown this stairway the convicts were marching, one behind the other, when John, stepping out of the door on to the stairway, instead offollowing his comrades down and into his cell, as he had done on formeroccasions, leaped out into space and fell to the ground. When he waspicked up, life was extinct. He received his pardon that day, but gavehis life as the ransom. No one can imagine how much this youth sufferedbefore he brought himself to that point when he decided to make thatleap into eternity. 

CHAPTER XX. THE EX-CONVICT

Heavy are the burdens which men in prison must bear. They are deprivedof liberty, separated from friends, no social intercourse, andconstantly maintaining an unnatural position. The convict's place islower than the most degraded menial; he must ask for permission even toget a drink of water. No serf of earth, no slave, however wretched, hasa sadder lot. These unhappy mortals have yielded to temptation, havefallen, and are paying the penalty of violated law. Who can think ofthese degraded beings, without, to some extent, its calling forth thesympathy of the human heart, for we must not forget that they, too, arechildren of one universal Father. However deplorable the condition ofthese men while in prison, is it much better when they regain theirfreedom?

One morning about a month after my release from prison, as I was gettingready for breakfast, there came a knock at the door. Opening it I sawa young man--a tramp--who begged for something to eat. I recognizedhim immediately as a former fellow-convict. He had forgotten me. It hasalways been a rule in my home, when any one came to my door hungry, heshould have something to eat. At times, adhering to this practice hasalmost converted my home into a hotel for tramps. I invited this youngman in, and requested him to take a seat with me at the table. He didnot wait for a second invitation. He was very hungry. During the meal Iinquired as to his past history. He gave me the same old tramp "racket. "I had listened to the same story many times. After breakfast was overI asked him if he would have a cigar. With a smile, he said, if I wouldfurnish the cigar, he would be pleased to indulge. I invited him intoanother room, closed the door and locked it. The turning of the keyrather took him by surprise. I reached out my hand to him, and said:"Charley D----, don't you know me? Don't you remember the man who workedwith you for a couple of weeks in the penitentiary coal mines, roomNo. 3? Have you forgotten the last day we worked together, when a largepiece of slate fell upon your leg, and I had to assist you in reachingthe foot of the shaft as you were being conveyed to the hospital?"

"My God! Reynolds, is this you?" he exclaimed. "I would never have knownyou in your pleasant surroundings. Had I met you in the penitentiarycoal mines, dressed in prison stripes, your face and hands covered withcoal dust, I would have recognized you. "

I gave him his much coveted cigar and invited him to a chair. I wasanxious to learn his history since he left the prison. He had regainedhis liberty almost one year before I was released. 

After he had reached the quiet contentment which is the inevitableresult of a well appreciated breakfast and a good cigar, I said to him:"Charley, just drop your tramp story and tell me your true history sinceleaving the prison. I am anxious to know just what an ex-convict mustmeet. "

This young fellow was twenty-five years of age. He served five years inthe penitentiary for stealing horses. He had an inferior education, andmight be considered an average ex-convict. His narrative will show whatthe great majority of these men are called upon to endure. 

His story revealed the fact that when he left the penitentiary he hadthirteen dollars in money and a suit of inferior clothes, such as isfurnished the prisoner when discharged. Having been closely confined forfive years, without even a newspaper to read, with but few visitors, he was entirely ignorant of what had occurred during his period ofincarceration. His parents had been dead for several years, and he hadno friends to whom he could apply for aid. The large iron doors swungupon their hinges, and he went forth a free but bewildered man. He hadliberty, it is true, but liberty replete with such trials as awaitedthis young man is certainly little better than prison confinement. Passing under the big stone archway, and out beyond the prisonenclosure, he paused for a few moments upon the little eminence on whichthe prison stands, and viewed the surrounding country, not knowing whatto do or where to go. Finally he takes the principal road that leadsacross the country, and in a half hour's walk reaches a farm house. Heasks for work. The farmer needs a hand, but asks the applicant for whomhe worked last. 

"I am just out of prison, " was the reply. 

"I thought so, " said the farmer, "for I have seen so many of these mencoming out of that place wearing clothes similar to those you have on. How long were you in prison, and what was your offense?"

"I served five years, and my crime was horse-stealing. "

At this frank confession the farmer slightly coughed, and stated thata man called the day before, and he had partially promised the place tohim, and he did not feel like employing any one until he heard from him. Had the farmer been as frank as the convict he would have said, "I don'twant a penitentiary-bird about me, and particularly one that has been ahorse-thief. "

Finding no employment he moved on. For two weeks this friendlessex-convict walked about the country, going from one farm house toanother, seeking employment. He practiced great economy, but at theexpiration of this time his thirteen dollars were gone. He was nowpenniless, friendless and almost hopeless. For two weeks he had told thetruth, and frankly confessed he was an ex-convict. He had a desire to doright. He felt that the first step down the hill toward the penitentiarywas lying. But two weeks squandered in trudging about the countryseeking employment and finding none, convinced him that it wasimpossible to obtain work and tell the truth as to his past history, sohe imagined nothing was left but to practice deception, steal or starve. Reader, what would you have done? He did what you probably would, surrounded by the same circumstances--he made up his mind to lie. Onmaking further inquiries for work, he learns of a farmer living severalmiles away, who desired hired help. He immediately set out for thatplace. This farmer, like all the rest, put the question, "For whom didyou last work?" Instead of imparting the information that he was anex-convict, he invented a little story to the effect that he had workedfor a farmer living some miles distant, with whom he had become quitewell acquainted, having spent a Sunday at his home, and whose name hegave his inquisitor. He received employment. A bargain was made, and ournow happy ex-convict went to work. Three weeks passed away. The employerand the employee were mutually satisfied. The prisoner worked hard. Hefelt that at last the clouds which had so long obscured his sky wereabout to break away, and the sunshine of prosperity would soon be his. 

But how mistaken we sometimes are when forecasting the future! Oneafternoon, at the end of three weeks, the old farmer rode up forwhom the ex-convict had stated that he worked. The ex-criminal wasrecognized. The old farmer had some business with the employer of theprisoner, and in the evening before leaving for his home, thinking to dohumanity a great favor, confidentially informed his neighbor that he hadan ex-penitentiary convict on his farm at work, and that he was an old, hardened horse-thief, and beyond all hope of redemption. That evening, after supper, the prisoner got the "grand bounce. " The small amount ofmoney he received for his three weeks' services on the farm was expendedin paying his expenses while continuing his search for work. 

He at length arrives at Kansas City, with but a few cents, andcompletely discouraged about securing work. At this place he met acriminal, a former acquaintance. He, too, was without money. They talkedover their misfortunes, and after duly considering the matter, cameto the conclusion that out of crime there was no chance to get anotherstart. They planned a burglary for the following night. A residence somedistance from the central portion of the city was entered. They obtainedten dollars and a silver watch, and concluded to continue their criminalefforts the next evening. During the day, however, the "pal" wasarrested on another charge, and locked up in the city prison. He thoughtit about time to fly, and so took his departure. 

He spent the rest of his time in Kansas, tramping about and stealing. When he had money he would live well; when his pocketbook was empty hewould beg and steal. There was one crime he committed for which hecould not be much blamed. The old farmer that went to so much troubleto convey the intelligence to his brother granger that the hero ofour story was an ex-convict, was the sufferer. The ex-convict, to get"even, " one dark night entered the barn, rode away a beautiful ridingpony, sold him for fifty dollars in cash, and forgot to mention thefact to the farmer. In stealing, tramping and begging the time had beenchiefly taken up from the day he had left the prison, to the morning hecame to my house for something to eat. He will doubtless continue thiscourse until caught in some criminal act, which will result in anotherterm in the penitentiary. 

The great majority of the criminals in the penitentiary are young men. One dose of prison life is all they desire. Did they but have the leastopportunity of living useful lives, and becoming respectable citizenswhen out of prison, they would improve it, instead of committing crimeand being returned to hard labor without compensation. I am now pleadingfor hundreds of young men who are in prison for the first time, and haveall the punishment along this line they desire, who would like to reformand become useful citizens. But how can they accomplish this? Unaidedthey will come out of the prison, drift about awhile, and then thecurrent of sin and crime will bear them back again to a felon's cell. Inan unguarded hour they succumbed to the tempter's power, and fell. Thedark mantle of disgrace has enveloped them. And if there were some kindfriend to lend a helping hand, how quickly would they tear it off andput on the robe of useful citizenship. Will not the great State ofMissouri adopt some plan to afford aid to these men who would like to beextricated from this dangerous quagmire into which they have fallen?