Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1895-12-12
CHAPTER Kill

that what | had gone through could
mean the life Of q day must surely be
impossible. Was there nothing before
me but isolation so complete that no
whisper from tho outside world could
reach me-that world which, compared
with the death into which l was being
absorbed, seemed the only world OF the
living:
Had 1 actually nothing to look for
but the most repUlsive work under the
most repulsive conditions: ! said there
must be surely some change; that wheel
ing mud forever was not the doom Of
any man and could certainly not be
mine.
1 looked about my little cell, the still
ness Of the grave without, the utter soil
tude within. The untouched ration
which formed my supper was on the
table-eight ounces of black bread. Try
as l might to cheat myself with hope |
knew that hope for many long year
there was none; that, so far as the most
vindictive sentence could compass it, for
many a long year the earth with her
bars was about me.
No "De profundis cry could ever as
cend from tho abyss TO the bottom Of
which 1 had fallen. What was outside
Of me had nothing but the hideous.
But although the visible seemed cor
ruption and the things which my soul
and body, too, had refused to touch were
become my sorrowful meat, yet | could
not but feel that the invisible, that part
e, ii hold aud N
man deprive me Of, was still my own.
and that in it l might and would find
sufficient tosupport what began to feel
was. after all, the only man.
To face the actualities Of the position
was the first thing not to cheat myself,
the second. had seen the sort of men l
was to be with. / set to work to study
and to understand the kind of life we
were to live together
At early dawn we rose, receiving i'm
mediately after the nine ounces of bread
and pint of oatmeal Cruel which COM
posed breakfast; at 8 80 to chapel TO
hear one Of the schoolmasters drone
through the morning prayers Of the Eng
lish church service and listen TO some
hymn shouted out from throats never
accustomed to such accents. Then the
morning hours would drag slowly on III
the summers sun and winter blast un-
til the noon hour; then there was the
long march back from the scene of my
toll to the prison for dinner. Arriving
there, each man went to his cell, closing
his door, which snapped to, having
l.. "a l.
consisting of l6 ounces Of boiled potatoes
and five ounces of bread, varied on three
days of the week with five ounces of
meat additional At l o'clock the doors
We're unlocked, and we marched out to
our work again. AT night, returning to
the prison, eight ounces of black bread
would be doled ont for supper. Then
came the hours between supper and bed
time, when, shut IN between those mar
row walls, one realized what It was TO
be prisoner.
In the corner Of the cell there was
board let into the stonework that served
as bed, table and chair. There was
thin pallet and two blankets rolled up
together during the day in a corner OF
the cell that served for bedding, but so
thin and hard was the pallet that one
might almost as we'll have slept on the
board. For the first few weeks this bed
made my bones ache. Most men have
little patience and small fortitude, and
this bed kills many of the prisoners-I
mean breaks their hearts simply because
they have not the wit to accept the mat
ter philosophically and realize that
they can soon become used to any hard
ship. 1t took six months for my bones
to become used to the hard bed, but for
the next 10 years l used to sleep as
sweetly on that oak board as | ever did
or now do in bed Of down, only, like
Jean Vatican in lies Miserables, " l
had become so used to it that upon my
liberation l found it impossible for
time to sleep in a bed
have related how the Sunday after
my sentence i'll my despair l took the
little Bible off the shelf. The other
books had at Chatham besides the Bi-
BILE were a dictionary and "The Life Of
the Prophet jeremiah. Once, soon aft
er my arrival in Chatham, l took the
jeremiah down from the shelf, but
speedily put it back and made VOW
never to take it down again, and l never
| did. 1t remained i'll view on the little
! shelf for 10 years while l sat there
watching it rot away. The dictionary
is a good book, but grows tiresome at
times.
1 thought in my enthusiasm 1 should
never tire of the Bible, but after 10 or
- Il 20 ns1rsN- 1t1
and grew hungry for other mental food.
1 wanted Shakespeare, for with him to
keep me company l could no longer be
| in the desolation of solitude. At last
determined to get my friends to try for
me. I had learned the Bible almost by
heart. The smallest incidents i'll the life
of the Prophet jeremiah were much
| moro familiar to me than the history Of
tho civil war, and Anathoth took on
proportions which made it as real as
| New York and far more important. The
desperate efforts had made to keep my
! self from falling into the condition of
so many | had seen dropping to idiocy
and death were, | felt, successful, and
any occupation which kept alive the in
tellect could not but be beneficial l was
hungry, starving, for mental food. New
er had books appeared so attractive,
never was kingdom so cheerfully offered
for a horse as Iwould have offered mine
for an octave. My friends had written
for me to tho government, but with no
success. At last they had interested the
| American minister i'll London, who
promised to write to the home secretary
for me, but a year had slipped by, and l
had heard nothing.
jeremiah continued viii me, and 1t
seemed he was TO remain with me to
the end But Il change was coming.
Can l ever forget the day it happen
| ed? Can [ ever cease to remember the
delight, the incredulity, the astonish-
ment of that happy day? l had come in
at night hungry, cold, wet and miser-
able. l made my way a little depressed
to my cell. As l was about to step
across the threshold l saw a book lying
on my little wooden bed. Amazed and
astounded, hesitated to enter. Small
as such circumstance appears, the very
sight Of the book L--aght ON weak
ness l feared to pic ii up; horrible
dread seized me that it might be a new
Bible, and was unwilling to risk an
other disappointment. The footprint on
the sand was not more suggestive nor
more awe inspiring to Robinson CrusOe
than the appearance Of that book was &c
me In mood as lonely, III plight as des-