The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-11-27

Again across Broadway and so-passing from
the many -colOred crowd and glittering shops
into another long main street. the BoWery.r n
railroad yonder, see, where two stout horses trot
along, drawing score or two OF people and q
great wooden ark, with case. The stores
a59 poorer G6bes aere Se agS meat
| ready.cooked are TO be bought In these
parts: and the lively whirl of carriages
Is exchanged for the deep rumble OF
| plentiful, in shape like river buoys. or small
| balloons, hoisted by cords to poles, and dang
ling there announce, as you may see oy looking ing
| up; "Oysters in every Style.n They tempt the
hungry most at night, for then dull candles,
| glimmering inside, illuminate these dainty
| words, and make the mouths OF idlers water, as
| What is tins dismal,fr ,fronted pile OF bastard
| Egyptian, Ike ban enchanters palace in melo
dramaP famous prison, called the Tombs.
So. long narrow lofty building stove.
| heated as usual, with four galleries, one above
the ' other going round IT, IL, ana nd com, 9c
| siOes of each gallery, and in its centre, a
bridge for the greater convenience of
crossing. On each OF these bridges sits a
man, doing or reading, or talking to an idle
companion. On each tier are two opposite
rows of small iron doors. They look ike fur
mace doors, but are cold and black, as though
the fires within had all gone out. Some two or
three are open, and women with dropping
Aeads bent down, are talking to the inmates.
The whole is lighted by skylight but III IT Is fast
dropping, two useless windsails.
A man with keys appears, to show us round.
good looking fellow, and, in his way, civil
and obliging.
"Are those black doors the cels?"
"Yes.n
"A1e they all fullp
well they're pretty nigh full, and that's a
fact, and no two ways about it.n
These at the bottom are unwholesome,
surely"
=, why we do only put colored people in 'em.
That's the truth"
when do The prisoners take exercise ?"
well, they do without it pretty mueh.n
DO they never walk IN the yard~
considerable seldom.n
Sometimes, | suppose ~
"Well it's rare they do. They keep pretty
bright without it,"
"But suppose a man were here for a twelve
month. l know this is only prison for crimi-
mails who are charged with grave ofenses while
they are awaiting their trial. or are under
remand; but the law here affords criminals many
means of delay What with motions for new
trial, and in arrest of judgment, and what not,
a prisoner might be here for twelve months l
take it, might he not?"
"Wel guess he might"
'Do you mean to say that in all that time he
would never come out at that little iron door
for exercise ?'
"He might walk some perhaps-not much"
"Will you open one OF the DOORS ~
GAN, il you like.o
The tastenings jar and rattle, and one of the
doors turns slowly on its hinges. Let as look in.
through high chink in the wall There is a
rude means of washing, a table, and bedstead.
Upon the latter sits man of sixty, reading.
He looks up for moment, gives an impatient,
dogged shake, and fixes his eyes upon his book
again. As we withdraw our heads. the door
closes on him, and is fastened as before. This
man has murdered his wife, and will probably
be hanged.
How lone, has he been here'"
when win he be tried ?n
| Next term"
'When is tlatm
| Next MONTH"
'Tn England, If man be under sentence of
death even, he has air and exercise at certain
| periods of the day"
| "Possible?"
| With what stupendous and untranslatable
| GOODNESS he says this and how loungingly he
| leads on to the women's side, making as he
goes, a kind OF iron castanet of the key and the
| stair-ran
Each cell door on this side has square
aperture in it. Some OF the women peep
| anXously through it at the sound of foot
steps; others shrink away in shame. For
| what offense can that lonely child, of ten or
| twelve years old, be shut up here? Oh! that boy?
He is the son of the prisoner we saw just now
| is a witness against his father; and is detained
here fer safe keeping until the trial; that's all.
| But it is dreadful place for the child to pass
the long days and nights in. This is rather hard
treatment for young witness, is 1t not? What
| says our conductor?
SWell, it amt very rowdy life, and that's a
| fact ~
Again he clinks his metal eastanet, and leads
us leisuIely away. have question to ask him
| as we 90.
pray, why do they call this place The
| Tombs ~
well, it's the cant name.n
| ''I know il is WhyW
"Some suicides happened here when il was
| first built. ! expect it come about from that.n
81 saw, Just now that that mans clothes were
| scattered about the floor of his CELL Don't you
obIige the prisoners to be orderly, and put such
| things away ~
| "Where should they put em? 2"
mot on the ground, surely. What do you say
| 10 hanging them up"
He stops and looks round to emphasize his
| answers
why. say that's just it, When they had
| hooks, they lcOuid hang themselves, 80 they're
marks left where they used to be ln
The prison yard in which he pauses now has
| been the scene of terrible performances. Into
| this narrow, graVe-hke place men are brought
i out to die. The Wretched creature stands
| beneath the~gibbet on the ground, the rope
| weight at its other end comes running down,
! and swings him up into the air--a corpse.
| The law requires that there be present at
| this dismal spectacle the Judge, the Jury and
| citizens to the amount of twenty-five. From
| the community 1T 10 hidden. To the dissolute
| and bad the thing remains frightful mystery.
| Between the criminal and them the prison wall
Is inteTposed as thick gloomy veil. Il is the
curtain TO his bed of death, his wnding-sheet
ana grave. From him 1t shuts out life and ALI
Ihe motlVes 10 unrepenhug hardihood in that
last nour, which Its mere sight and presence is
TtIen INA d all-seIhcent to sustain. There are no
| ooid eyes TO make him bold-no ruffians 10 un.
hoid ruman's name before. All beyond the
| pi1 stone wall Is unknown epace
Let us go forth again INTO the cheerful streets