The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1883-09-27
JAIL SERMONS In STONE.
Wit from Behind the Iron Bars.

JAIL SERMONS In STONE.
Wit from Behind the Iron Bars.
The New York World says that they
have been rebuilding the cells on the
main floor of police headquarters.
When one of them was burned out a
couple of weeks ago by a fire from the
register when they were burning gam
blers' tools in the basement, it was de-
cided to turn four of the half-dozen
cells into a sleeping-room for detectives
on night duty and leave two behind
that for prisoners of distinction, women
especially, of some pretensions of de-
cency, who might happen to get into
the clutches of the law, the basement
cells being considered good enough for
the common rabble. The upstairs
prison has always been considered
rather more bon-ton than below, and in
its twelve or fifteen years of service it
has housed queer crowd. Bank pres
idents and bank burglars, the latter
only less dangerous than the former,
have slept behind the grated doors, al
ternated with clergymen, forgers, shop
lifters, and women whom society call
leniently. Some of them did not sleep
at all, but all night long the reporters
and the door-man on duty in the hall
heard their heavy step, scarcely heav-
ier than their hearts, as they stood face
to face with these wrecked lives and
regulations. One night the step was
hushed, and the listeners thought the
prisoner, a once wealthy, highly re-
spected resident of the fashionable
quarter on Madison avenue, a man OF
an honored name and with family OF
daughters, had laid down to sleep.
But when morning came he was found
dead, hanging by his handkerchief
from the wall. Over his head, scratched
on the paint with a pencil, were the
following lines:
How wondrous and great
Thy works God of Praise,
How just, King of Saints,
And true are Thy ways.
Since then other scrawls have beer
added. The tearing out of the parti
ton in the cells and of the CRATES in the
windows brought them out in the sun.
light. Curiously they traced the
thoughts of the lonely prisoners here,
some of whom went forth to face death
on the gallows. Nameless all, they
told the stories of their writers palmer
than words or confession. Some were
words OF contrition: 81 will turn over 9
new leaf and shun all bad company"
wrote one; ''Forsake evil ways and be
good another, addressing, apparent
ly, his successors in the dungeon.
These words stand in German:
ARRESTED for shop-lifting-driven te
it by bad companions-sit l here with
broken heart and mother sick unto
death in Germany.
Evil companions, the everlasting
refrain; keep good company" are
scratched with nail in the paint, land
take mothers advice and you will
keep out of trouble. If you are now
in trouble pray to God and trust him.
He will carry you through it.
One who has not (but wilD followed
the above writes this: II am now
charged with forgery" ''Thank God,
/ can prove my innocence" wrote one
and hard by another: "And am as in.
nocent as the babe unborn"
overflows the wall in every cell, with
rays of hope here and there striking
through its misery. ''No power on
earth is as strong as the power OF
prayer" is over the head of the iron
cot, and in the adjoining cell pathetic
verse in German, apparently expressing
genuine contrition for evil. 1t is one Of
the few that has name to it-Siegfried
Zackier.
InterSpersed with these serious refiec.
tions are frivolous lines. sometimes
comical, seldom coarse. Over the door
some reader of Dante has added to the
scrawl: ''Hotel for thieves; Thomas
Byrnes, proprietor; board and lodging
free the motto, s'All ye who enter
here leave hope behind" Where that
chair left mark on the wall prisoner
wrote reflectively: ''Any one to bring
himself here must be fool" s.In for
wife deserting," wrote another-and
added with conviction, '.Never get
married" A picture of Blanche
Douglass, bad one, looks down upon
an army of names of famous singers
Parepa, Nilsson, Rossita and ''Pat Ma
guire. What must have been the
thoughts OF him who wrote:
Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: ut might have been ="
There are verses in German, in
French, and in Swedish, and tender
epistles roughly psraphrased. Here, to
the verse:
When prison walls divide us,
And your form l cannot see,
will think of you in daylight
And dream OF you at night,
is added to another hand the line
''Good-by, old woman" Another, who
wrote, "When the leafs begin to fall, "
apparently with an effort, was evident
ly interrupted quite suddenly, and
never finished it. The desperate senti-
inert of a prisoner scratched in huge
letters, ''Give me liberty or give me
death, echoes from every ~ell.
Our life is like the moon;
The dark clouds comes over the moon,
And again the moon bursts forth, Free,
writes the original poet. .'John Kelly,
he "is here for running away from
hOme.n
Do you ask how came
To be locked in this cell?
Find out If you can;
If not, go to hi,
is the reflection of mind not chastened
by adversely. ''Slippery George con-
veys warning from experience: keep
cool or they will put you down stairs,
and it is HI Of bad place. Take
my word for it. | was there;" and
another who s'has been there" records
the following verdict on the wall of the
second cell to the left:
A warning to those who sleep here after me.
Five thousand bugs last night did see.
tryed to sleep, but all in vain.
when would be in bed have to get up again
Resp. yours,
]. E.
A railroad restaurant sandwich sent
q L. 10 IL IL