The Warner weekly sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1885, 1885-02-20
BECKY n in JAIL.
How the Obstinate HOusekeeper Has stood
Her Thirty Three Weeks I'M
prisOnment.

II Is kHIk S-titSS "SChc t'H"t S'aN'
Miss Becky Jones, the obstinate house
keeper Of the late Mr. Hamersley, hav-
ing been adjudged guilty of contempt
of court for refusing to tell all she
knew about her late employer, was
sent to Ludlow street jail. She was
putSn a room about twelve feet square,
on the first floor. just off the dining
room. The single irOn-barred window
faces on Essex market place, which is
kept alive by the soul-stirring impre-
cations of butchers, the scream and
cries of children, and the occasional
bowling of half starved dogs and cats.
Miss Jones hung a neat white curtain
over the window and then examined
the bed. 1t Mortified her, and she
made life entertaining for Warden
Phil Herman until she got things fixed.
He moved in a marble top bureau
adorned with a mirror, and gave her a
large piece of carpet and two chairs.
The first week Becky kept closely to
her room and was seen only at meal
times. She said she was i'll, and the
warden passed a drug store for
a few daysafter that without buying a
bottle of patent medicine for her.
Becky got we'll, and the warden
claimed the credit oft.
Finally Becky got settled down IN a
humdrum method of passing the days,
and seldom varies from it. She locks
her door about 10 o'clock at night. If
she is not very sleepy she draws her
bedstead under the gas light, and lies
in bed reading a novel or a tract, If
she happens to have n that draws
a happy parallel between a really
good and a very bad boy. She W.
forgets to turn off the gas before drop
ping into a sleep.
She is up about daylight, and tramps
steadily about the circular yard in the
center of the jail for half an hour.
Then she uses up considerable worsted
in making tides until breakfast is
ready. Breakfast is passed in kindly
verse with her other unfOrtunates, who
vie with each other in helping Becky
to bread. As soon as the meal is over
Becky returns to her room and writes
several pages of her book, which will
tell the world all about her troubles.
Then she reads a little, uses up a little
more worsted, and receives as many
of her friends as call upon her. She
has become attached to her home now,
the only thing she dislikes about it is
the name it bears.
Warden Herman met a reporter at
the door of the Jail on Sunday and
told him that Becky had issued orders
a short time previously to have the
first reporter that came along sent to
her. Becky sat near the window in a
black Alpaca dress. A little wooden
trunk stood near the bureau. The top
of the bureau was neatly covered with
white tides, on which rested a stubby
black jug, with fiat sides and a small
neck. The jug was painted black,
and was stuck all over with little
cupids in green and gold, and these
letters: Been"
They stand for Becca," said Becky,
as she shook the reporters hand. 81
was going to make it Rebecca, which
is my name, but / couldn't find any,
thing to cut the r and Q out of. Sit
down over there while / tell you what
/ wanted to see you for.
''It's about Aid. Farley" she said.
HE has been flirting with me in aw-
full. / told him if he did not stop COM
ing in here I'D tell the reporters about
him now I'm going to do it. He comes
around and sits where you are sitting
now, and goes on hor-rid. He brought
his picture around here and gave it to
me. Here it is"
Becky showed the reporter q photo
graph of the alderman with his smile
and watch chain complete. 1t was
hanging in a dark part of the room.
Becky pointed to a row of blue labels
which were pasted on one side of the
window casing.
81 paste one of these up there at the
end of every week." she said. II
have thipty-three there now, but the
thirty-third week will not end until
Monday night. | am willing to end my
life here, and il the price of my re-
lease is to tell all / know about poor
dear Mr.. Hamersley | shall certainly
die here. They say | am obstinate. II
I am | suppose It is because | was
born so near the Fourth of july"
"Have you any hope of releasep"
"William H. Shepherd is my lawyer,
and / believe he is doing something
for me. am contented here, and
don't much care. Everybody is kind
to me. The Rev. Mr.. Morgan, who
breaches here on Sundays, sent me a
Christmas card, and so did his mother.
Somebody else sent me a book full of
prayers and q card full of verses. I've
an awful lot of novels sent me. too.
and such an awful lot of letters. You'd
be surprised if / showed you some Of
them, but won't though.'
II should think you'd get a cat or
dog, Miss Jones, for companyp'
"Pooh! j hate them. "-New York