Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1895-04-06

&C n I ana guilty,
mothers and families and "drolesses." rag
ged men. and men In good black coats. The
police poste differs very slightly from the
American station house" 1t has its large
central room, the desk" the telegraph in
strument. the "blotter," the benches, the
side rooms for the policemen to sleep in.
and. back of all. the corridor containing
cells To be put into a cell over night Is
to be put into 1.-The violin case" You might
think you were in America, were 1t not for
the language. The women in the corner
cell chat, chatter and chaff all night, in
terupting their volubihty by frequent
snatches of song. The drunkard grunts
beside you, the nervous man PAGES five
steps up and five steps down. the Joker is
continually calling out to the women, and
the sullen prisoner Is continually grumbling
at the noise. Kick against the door for a
glass of water. When win It be morning?
In the morning all your things are given
blocks through the open streets Of Paris
to the comrnissary's office. On this prone
Eade. attended by your agent (pOliceman),
you may stop at the tobacconists and buy
q pack of cigarettes. All! the air of Paris
in the morning! Take cup of coffee also,
II the bureau of tobacco be wine shop,
as 1t usually is. You may need the coffee
after you have seen the commissary. For
committing magistrate, but something more
and something less, your future comfort
for some days depends. He has the power
to let you go free, but must still make his
report. You will be on bail without having
given bail. Or he may send you back to
the police poste pending inquiries about
you. Or he may send you to the depot
This latter is the Valley Of Jehosaphat.
II the commissary is the committing
magistrate, then the depot Is the central
station. Everybody comes to 1t. from
Charles de Lesseps down to the scald-
headed little boy who has run away from
his parents in Nantes. Through the kind
ness Of the commissary of the Rue de Prov
ence I am enabled to give a correct de-
ecriptfon Of this establishment, which has
become Interesting in the past few months
from having received SO many gentlemen
decorated with the ribbon Of the Legion of
Honor.
The French police van differs from the
one we know at home in that 1t Is divided
into tiny compartments or cells, scarcely
large enough to hold q man. During their
ride to the depot prisoners are not thrown
together. but each Is isolated In his little
box. The wagon creaks along the streets
Of Paris. Everyone makes way from 1t.
1t raises ugly thoughts. 1t Is blot upon
the bright streets of the brightest city of
the world. The last block of it's Journey is
beside the river Seine. beside the fragrant,
brilliant flower market. Past the historic
Conciergerie and the Clock-Tower, past the
lively students boulevard Of st. Michael,
tne Wason Turns anu SroanS INTO stony
court. A great door slams, and you are at
the dreaded depot. Despite the politeness
Of the higher class of French officials,
cannot say anything but i'll Of this estab-
lishment, which seems to be scandal to
the French republic.
Hencefcrth imagine yourself q prisoner
awaiting examination at the Paris depot.
You are somewhere in the great mass of
buildings called the Palais de Justice, situ-
ated in the center of the city along the
south bank Of the river. You are within
a stones throw of the Sainte -Chapelle.
the towers of Saint Louis, the prison cell
ing visitor, and yet how differently. stu
ated. Here it is not Paris" says the
wretch. 'Serrez-la! Move up, Allez allez,
Stand in a line. crowd up, answer to your
names. but will you move up. you, mean
you there! Serrez!' the red-faced guard
fans" sccld at the new arrivals. The
guardians tremble with rage, they are ex-