The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-07-07

girl to red lemonade and gingerbread.
From the old-fashioned Fourth" Sena-
tor Bentley passed to the present pros
poets of Kansas and with pardonable
pride for Wichita and natural boom
instinct, restricted most of his wonderful
tales Of plenty and fruition within the
boundaries of Sedgwick county. He
told the multitude, quickly, for
they had anticipated the joke
and tumultuous applause was already
beginning, that they were not
going to raise any pumpkins down here
this year, because the vines were grow
ing SO fast that they wore out the young
pumpkins dragging them over the
ground. After these glowing accounts
he hoped they would induce them to
| obey the laws of the institution and get
out as soon as possible SO they could en-
| JOY 1t. He said that it was not the
severity of the punishment the law
aimed at SO much as the certainty.
| After feeling exhortation to the men
for betterment of their condition, SEN
ator Bentley closed his speech, amid
great applause.
Then there was sweet song by the
| chaplain's daughter. Another weird
negro melody, "Hoe-cake in the pan"
which Of course was encored; song by
the choir, and topical piece by one of
the convicts. This ended the exercises
and back into the cells went the thousand
law breakers.
Immediately after Senator Bentley's
address there was an intermission-and
such one, too. II would have done
your heart good to see it. The
whole thousand of them were
given lemonade-only once a year, re-
member, the only taste of such luxury
in 365 days. How good it was. And
the cups held a quart piece. And
each man could drink all he wanted.
And nearly all of them drank three
quarts, hand running. You can guess
how many lemons it took, when you
know that they cost $50. And every
body ate the bits Of lemonrind and, my!
how they all enjoyed it.
George Washington involuntarily be-
slowed upon these men over an hun
dred years ago.
There is the big dinner. And would
you call it ''big" dinner? Maybe you
wouldn't. But it is because you do not,
all the year around, sit down to fat
pork and boiled cabbage, bread and
cheese, coffee, and nothing else, in dis
colored tin. What do they eat today?
Just look. Ham, nice, appetizing, pal
atable ham, that tempts the nostrilS; and
beans, fat, nourishing beans. And, I'M
precedented good fortunei beside each
mans plate, a pan of cookies, regular
sweet cookies with raisins stuck all over
the top and sprinkled with red
sugar. And what is that each man has
moved close to his plate as if it might
get away and had to be guarded? 1t is
great, fine, fragrant, yellow orange.
What strangers those oranges are here
a clear thousand of them. How unusual
these representatives of tropical chimes
look on the rough benches and among
the battered tin of the peitentiary dining
room. How their golden light glows
amid the dull scraped boards, the black
ened tinware and the monotony of the
convictS' apparel.
But the golden oranges are not the
climax. 1t is something else. 1t is
very dear to the men. Because when
they see it their eyes sparkle and their
faces light up. Some even drop the
other dainties and forget to guard their
oranges in their excitement when they
first see it. The sight of it is distract
ing. What is it? 1t is not fruit. 1t is
not cake. 1t is both together. 1t is pie.
Every man gets whole pie. And in
a twinkling a thousand horseshoes are
made ravenously, rapturously in a
thousand pies. The prisoners are given
an hour to finish this feast George
Washington, as the father of his coun-
try, never gave men greater delight
without giving them their liberty.
The dinner over, the long corridors of
cell doors click for the satisfaction of
the laws majesty and the celebration
is over.