St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-11-30

among the other animals there mewed up.
He swings his hammock in some cell
where he thinks he may find the
most congenial company. and in time
he and his cell-mateS may become
the best of chums, hunting certain busy
and particularly lively little vermin from
their clothing in happy accOrd-cracking
Jokes and lice in perfect harmony. Thus
thev grow chummy and ''crummy' together.
In the morning. before daybreak, even, va
rious uncouth sounds begin to disturb the
quiet which has reigned since midnight, and
soon the whole busy hive is astir, the
scratching of matches is heard, the fumes
of tobacco begin to render the thick. fetid
air more noisome still. the hum of CONVEX
sation and cursing sets in for the day, and
the arrival of the turnkey is awaited with
Impotence. About Z o'clock the cell doors
are unbarred and there is grand
rush OF sinners, soap in hand,
for the lavatory. One clean
towel per week on each tier is provided by
the county, but most of the prisoners have
some brought in for their own personal use.
Half an hour after opening up breakfast is
served. This consists invariably OF coffee,
with bread and butter. Knives are not al
lowed so the bread must be broken with
liIC udIuS. GUtl IL UilC 10 cO4CtlO tsb
it must be done with spoon. Dinner, on
week days, is the same the whole week
through. and is made up of fresh boiled
beef, soup, potatoes and bread without but
ter. Supper is bread, butter and tea.
Sometimes the dinner ON Sundays is changed
to boiled pork and beans. One-third of
loaf of bread at noon and One-half loaf
morning and night is served to each man.
Meal time is the signal for a general round
of cursing, grumbling and firing of very
stale chestnuts at the food. One will be
heard to mutter ''This coffee hasn't any
cough in it. It's too weak even to
breathe" Another will chip in: There's
very weak grounds for complaint in this
Coffee" ''Put the butter in, that will make
it strong enough" calls out yet another,
and so the chatf goes on. AS rule, how
ever, am bound to say that the butter is
not strong, and as for the bread. better can
not be found anywhere in the city.
SOCIAL TOPICS.
As a matter of course, the society in a
jail is of mixed and not strikingly
agreeable character. Thieves, burglars, till
tappers, beats of all grades. and pickpOck
cts are not promising elements of which to
form symposium. any more than they are
the classes from which one would select his
associates were he at liberty to choose.
Yet there are some virtues practiced in a
Jail which are seldom noted in the world at
large. Plain speaking, for example, is the
rule here. If one thinks another has lied
he feels no cOnstraint in telling the culprit
so with the most perfect freedom, in the
most emphatic terms. In like manner one
will give his candid, unbiased opinion of
such acs as do not please him.
also of the personal character
of another, directly to the person
spoken of, with wealth of epithetical eX-
preston. copiousness and force of Ian
guage, redundancy of fancy, an easy dash
and swing of scriptural quotation and
rhetorical effects, that would silence a
Choate or Webster. If such candOr were
practical out in the world friendships would
be broken, family ties sundered, church
obligations forgotten, parsons would fight
deacons main each other, even Quakers
would sound the tocsin of war and the air
would be full of mighty stirring music,
my brethren; oh, yes. indeed! But for all
their plainness of speech and Ioughness of
epithet, the prisoners seldom fight. If
they do. the cOmbatants are placed in stone
dungeon for forty-eight hours or so, where,
if they were so disposed, they could fight it
out to the bitter end, but they never do
that, for they are in midnight darkness.
There are no beds or blankets in this black
hole. and these deprivationS, together with
a diet of bread and water, will, in time,
bring the most refractory rough to terms.
Supper is served about 5 p. m. in winter
and o'clock in summer. Half an hour or
so afterward the turnkey makes his round
and locks the prisoners into their cells. 1t
is not usually so crowded in any tier. on the
convict side, that more than from two to
four occupy a cell together. AS soon
as the doors are closed, those
who can afford candles light up, and, when
they have newspapers or books, one reads
aloud to his cellmates. Some play cards,
and those who have no lights talk, sing, tell
stories, etc. At times they get to guying
or chatting from one tier to another. This
usually begins between two or three, but
others will take it up, others still join in.
until nearly all are at it, and then, indeed,
bedlam is out for noon. Viler obscenitY,
more horrible profanity, never blistered the
air than many of these wretches are capable
of. Such blood-chilling oaths as would
knock a COWBOY dead off his
horse are mere small talk to these fellows.
This applies only to the worst of them,
but of this class there are always enough in
Jail to make life a grievous burden to all
the rest. The first. utterly depraved
wretches, strive with hideous zeal to out
Herod Herod, and to Guido each other in
God-defying blasphem. Listening to
their curses and vile, filthy talk, one is
like them could be imprisoned for life, and
within separate dungeons. whence no
sound of their speech might ever escape to
shock the shrinking air. Sometimes they
carry their noisy orgies too far, and then
they receive a gentle admonition
from the turnkey, which they are
prompt to heed, for fear of
the dungeon in case they fail to obey. After
one or two have tasted the delights of that
delectabIe place, the rest become as tame as
cooling doves.
A FAMILY FAILING.
More constant, voluminous and plausible
liars never wagged tongue than they, and
the chance visitor who takes any stock in
their tales of woe. or of oppression and
wrong. is sadly-deluded mortal. They lie
by rote, note and scale, and never miss a
quaver; they lie by instinct. by design, but
never from force of habit, fol lying is born
in them. The same may be said of their
propensity for theft; nothing but imprison-
ment or lack of opportunity can restrain
them from it. They will sneak about the
cells of their comrades in durance,
With all the seeming innocence
And that unconscious look
Which other people wear when
They intend to hook
And fitch anything they can lay their
preying hand upon, even though the article
may be valueless and of no use whatever to
them. Mean vices are as manifest in them
as foul odors are in cesSpools and sewers.
Before closing this branch of the subject,
it may interest the reader to learn something
OF the peculiar nomenclature in vogue
among tramps, crooks and all the peripatetic
hordeS who prowl about the land, seeking
whom thew may deSnniI YOur simon nura