Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1871-11-09
Terrors Of the Connecti-
cut State Prison. =

expect 10 be. But IS there is a
lmerciful God above, to whom the
best of us pray for mercy, never
for justice, so should the guilty
land sometimes the unfortunate
and not the guilty. find the JUS
tice meted to them by imperfect
man tempered with that autLori.
ty of divinity. II ever there has
been inhumanity shown to poor
fallen humanity it has been with.
in those dark blue walls. | ques,
ton if ever the dungeons that
echoed to the groans of the tor
tured Ugolino, or the unhappy
Leonardo Da Vinci heard more of
mans misery than the Connect
cut state prison. Warden after
warden has fallen before the mad
dened victims of their tyranny,
till it really seems as if the law
of. self.preservation would in some
way control the Connecticutters
wild desire to oppress and destroy.
They have just hung one of these
resisters of oppression up in Hart
ford. wonder if this last affair
will fire the warden and keepers
to greater acts of injustice, or be
the means Of making matters bet,
ter. The press all over the coun-
try are speaking of the man VII
son as the "American William
Tell" That he deserved punish
ment for numerous burgiaries who
shall deny? But when goaded to
madness by inhumanity and the
crueleSt tyranny, who, in his place,
with one half the courage of that
poor, crippled convict, but would
have tried to do what Wilson did?
However, this man, Wilson, is
not the example the Connecticut
prison should profit by alone. Ten
years ago young Irishman came
to this country and opened a mod
est little liquor and segar shop in
the city of New Haven. The
building occupied by Gerald Toole
for this purpose was a frame dwell.
ling house, further inhabited by
several families. One night this
building burned, and Toole, being
insured fully, was accused by his
landlord OF incendiarism, tried,
found gnilty BY twelve bullheads
on evidence Of very weak char
acter, and sentenced by some ju-
dicial lightning, bug to imprison,
ment for life. A mere boy of TWEEN
ty, he was consigned, broken-heart-
ed, to the tender mercies of the
Weathersfield prison. lie had
never made shoe in his life, and
for that reason probably the aStute
authorities put the poor devil in
the shoe shop. He meekly, hum
bly, went to work to do his best.
In few weeks he got SO we'll up
in his part Of the business that the
overseer in charge told him he
must do this particular branch of
work on an entire case IL pairs)
of shoes each day, or take a fog
ging. Day after day saw that
poor young wretch working with
all his might only to accomplish
nine or ten pairs, to be fiogged
with leather thongs in the hands
of a huge blackamoor; to have his
raw and bloody back washed
down by bucket of salt and wa
ter; his shirt put on, and his
MANNED, mangled carcass thrust
into acell where sleep and misery
refused to lie down together. Day
with its blessed sun followed these
nights of horror, till finally the
man Toole was turned into a
fiend, who looked upon any means
of escape as justi6able. There
came a day when, working des-
perately at his bench all the
hours allotted him, night overlook
him with only the eleventh pair
completed. He was, as usual, ta-
ken to the stone-room, where the
negro and the whip awaited him..
This time the forlorn, abused
wretch had made up his mind that
if he must die he would sell his
life dearly. AS the inhumaD over
seer, Doolittle, with his assistant,
began stripping their victim, the
warden entered the room, and,
falling on his knees, poor Toole
begged him to interfere, plead
with him as if for life, assured him
another day, he thought, he would
be able to get through his case of
boots; that he had done his best
that day, but his prayer was of
no avail ; the warden told them to
go ahead with the flogging. The
shirt was torn from his raw back,
and the lash of the negro descend
ed. In a moment, hcoEeyer, the