Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1892-06-25
SONGS THAT WERE HUsHED.
An Incident of Jail Life Written for The Star
by Prisoner.

SONGS THAT WERE HUSHED.
An Incident Of Jail Life Written for The Star
| by . Prisoner.
To the great outside world the life Of pris-
oner is a hystery-an unread chapter Of an
unwritten book. His habits, his environment,
his thoughts and feelings as affected by that
environment, are difficult even to be guessed or
imagined by those who have never spent an
hour within the gloomy precincts of a Jail or
prison Ispeak not now of the life or thoughts
Of the hardened and sentenced criminal, for of
those know nothing. But refer to the large
| class of persons who, for various causes find
for the first time brief but enforced residence
here.
And right here I want to protest against the
practice, however II arose and for whatever
reason it Is perpetuated, of budding together
IL the closest possible contact and without dis
| tinction persons already convicted and those
who, though under arrest and constraint, are
| still innocent in the eyes of the law because not
proven guilty.s There cannot conveniently be
under the present system any difference in
their treatment and this fact alone is sufficient
TO make the propriety Of their separation ap-
parent.
The object of this letter, however, is merely
to Illustrate by single and simple incident the
hardships attendant upon prison life. Order
in all regulations the mental and moral welfare
of the prisoner should be kept closely in mind.
The incident was as follows:
Last Tuesday the morning was superlatively
beautiful. After breakfast the influence of the
glorious sunshine, the broken but beautiful
view Of the green trees and the rolling hills be-
yond the Anacostia, the waited fragrance Of
the new-mown hay in the jail yard seemed to
I'LL all the prisoners with one common thought,
one universal yearning for the free sun and air
of heaven. All along the corridors, from out
the close cells, as if animated by a common i'm
pulse, arose, one after another, the low, half
suppressed hum of voices in song. Every pr is
oner seemed to feel the benign influence of
Gods beauteous handiwork about him in sky
and alr. in field and tree. Every heart seemed
attUned to song, but all we're songs plaintively
suggestive OF some unsatisfed longing
MEMORY OF HOME.
One sweet voice Cthat OF girD, fearful in its
smOthered sadness, seemed to echo the soft re-
frain of the dove. as if the singers thoughts
were lowering far away DER some quiet spot
where sin and sorrow were unknown and where
the sweet influences of home life in the country
preserve the soul from faint, the notes of
my Old Kentucky Home" foated forth from
her lips.
From another voice, whose owners thoughts
were evidently wandering among the shades Of
the old trees that overhung his ancestral home
and among the festoons of fragrant roses that
draped the garden wall came, in touching ten
derness, the air Of Down on the Farm"
Another prisoner, whose future pathway was
doubtless darkened by the shadow Of long i'm
prisonment and who probably felt that
This world Is all feetiny show
NJ For mans illusion given;
h p, sEsa3e sS 2, ,ey the tears Of woe.
fhsrss n noH2 es sfus but yea heaven"
sang with a psthOs had never known before
20 for Closer Walk With God" No doubt,
after the bitter experiences of life, with all its
sin and sadness, its disappointments and doubts
aches, there was a soulful longing for closer
communion with the purer spirits the guardian
angels of the world to come.
Another, with similar feelings, no doubt was
humming "Nearer, My God to Thee Still
another, whose life had doubtless been one not
overblest with Joy, and who feared less the
mystery of death than the mystery Of life,
plaintiyeiy sang
Iyould not live Away.
Where storm after storm
Rises dark DER the way.
The few Iurid moments
That dawn On US here
Are enouRh FOR lifes sorrow-
Full enough for its Cheer
Oh, what a strange and weird experience! 1t
was scene and sound never to be forgotten.
felt as if suddenly transported into some
shadowy region of the inferno. with but single
outlook into the realms of light above, through
which surged the united prayers and wishes and
negotiations of all the hapless throng below
a region where music, heavenly sweet in its
sOftness, hclrtbreaking in its tenderness and
sadness, and earthly only in its suggestion of
familiar associations, arose in one touching wall
OF despair.
believe that one moment Of such feelings
as those prisoners must have felt then-feelings
OF aspiration for higher. purer, nobler life
feelings which come only too seldom amid
the toll and cares and distractions of business.
and which find lodgment, with all their
purifying and ennObling tendencies. only in
hearts rendered by sorrow and meliowed BY
affection. / believe that one moment thus
spent does more TO purify the heart, reform the
evil nature and SOW the seeds Of good resolves
than weary months of punishment in the loneii-
ness of a cell.
THE NOISE "KNocKED OFF,"
Yet even this poor solace of humming an air
that waited back from the vanished years of
childhood one fond memory Of a better life
even this boon was denied, for in few moments
the gruff, harsh voice of a profane 'trusty" was
heard commanding tho prisoners to ''knock off |
that noise" A silence at once fell on all-not |
the silence that betokens willing acquiescence
In a reasonable regulation, but the silence Of |
despair-as the transported convict feels when |
he sees the last link that binds him to his native
land severed Why not let the prisoners have a |
morning hour and an evening hour to sing or /!
hum the songs that reach the heart, and restore |
for time the severed communion with all that |
Is brightest and best and pure3t and noblest in |
their hves-ives too often darkened by sin and |
wart, suffering and sorrow? 1t is enough for "a |
tender heart and loving nature to be shut out |
from the free sun and air Of God'-to see no |
more the tender light in tear-dimmed eyes of |
those We love-enough to hear no more the soft |
" ords that thrill the soul with a sweeter music
than the winds ever swept from Eolian harfs-
enough TO feel 10 more the magnetic touch Of |
hands outs.retched in sympathy enough to feel /
athwart the heart the fell shadow of humiliation
and dhgrace. often unnerited-enough to see
day by day the sands of brief existence swiftly
pouring from the upper to the neither bulb of |
tine hour-glass. Then be not too severe on the
unfortunate prisoner. II all other links that
bind rs to 'the sweet DAYS gone by" must be
broken, as we look forth with moistened eyes
through the gratings of our cells. to the deepen
ing purple Of the sunset, that with some Of Us
typifies only too clearly the fading of life's
brightest dreams, let us at least span the twi-
light with bridge, not of s;ghs merely, but of
that unbidden song that tells TO the SYM