Evening star., 1896-01-11
WAITING ROOM.

bread Each prisoner receives a heavy round
loaf of black barley-and-rye in the morn
ing on leaving his cell door. If he eats 1t
all up in the morning, there is nothing left
carries his loaf with him, never quitting 1t
throughout the day, at work, at the Law
atory, in the promenades, at meal time
and going to bed at night. For one must
keep little piece at least, for night when
you wake up hungry.
The Contractors benefit.
The cantine service of the prisons of
Paris is all in the same hands, and If 1t
does not pay the contractors handsomely,
it is a pity, for it Is hard to imagine a
more dishonorable business. a. The gov
ernment provides the prisons, pays the
warders and clerks. e. A contractor
agrees to feed the prisoners at his own
charge in return for the privilege OF profit
ing by their labor.
o. Therefore he jobs out their work, be
1t in making mousetraps cleaning ostrich
feathers. binding cheap books or what not
The prisoners, therefore. earn their food,
on the face of things. But the law, which
is benevolent even to the criminal desires
more than this for him. 1t says the prison
er snail be given in money portion of
what he earns. First convictions are TO
have half what they earn, the other half
! to go to their nutrition. Old offenders have
three-tenths of what they earn. Further
more, the money thus due to the prisoner is
to be divided half to serve his needs for lit
tie luxuries while in jail, half to be saved
up for him against the time of his release
in order that the state may not be obliged
to give him help. Here is a drain on the
contractor. The problem is to get back
again the few cents day forcibly paid to
| the prisoner.
! a. Therefore the cantine In theory 1t
Is species of cheap prison restaurant, run
without profit, destined to sweeten the ex-
istence of the unfortunate and encourage
him in well-doing., Practically-by the re-
luctlOn tiOnS n a ha
| life-supporting minimum, it becomes the
| prisoners necessity for meat. In the book
binding department, which is the best paid,
| the most expert workmen can earn only
| eight cents day. OF this he may spend
| four at a cantine. A veal stew costs six
| cents.
You may believe 1t that the prisoners all
work we'll at the Grand Roquette.
By 3:3O pm. the dinner is over, and the
| prisoners are promenading. The Grande
! Roquette is constructed in the style of all
| old infantry barra cks-four narrow build
| ingS form a hollow square, which makes
| a vast interior drill court The Grande Ro-
quette is simply this, with the addition of
! a wall. In the drill court the prisoners are
| promenading, four hundred men with hands
| united armed with heavy wooden shoes,
| which are weapons in themselves, not to
| speak of the heavy files and other tools of
| the iron and brass-working ateliers To
| guard them there are but four guardians
| and a brigadier. There are not twenty po-
| lice, guardians and soldiers in the whole
establishment. The French are lovers of
! economy.
Every eye is on the clock, for the half
| hour to pass; for they are underfed and
| wish to get back to the warm work SHOP
| Clangi clang the bell. They march in va
| rious ranks into four doors. And the new
| prisoners at the tail are halted
The hours pass on, the lights are lit and
1t is always work, work, work.
The Long Nights.
| Seven p. m. sounds with the order to
stop work. The convicts leave regretfully
| in winter time, but joyfully in summer Be-
cause. in the astounding system Of the
| Grande Roquette, the prisoner has not a
moment for reading other self improve
| ment except that gained in his cell. These
| cells are never lighted. At Z o'clock in
| the northern climate of Paris it will still
| continue light enough to read for two
| hours and half. In winter on the other
| hand, it is dark at 4:30. No difference is
! made on account of this a. the Depot des
| CondamneS of Paris.
| 1t is now winter, and they go to bed in
| the dark, lying on their beds twelve hours
| out of each twenty-four. There is nothing
| else to do, because the cells are too small
/ ply sit up and stare into the darkness The
| building is SO damp that 1t is the prac-
| tice to make up ones bed with the coarse
| sheets on the outside, as you can almost
| wiring the water from them. Dampness
| trickles down the walls sufficiently to wet
| your hand. The more knowing resort to
| making a boat of the bed" which is real
| ly a kind Of bunk. They take out the Stats
| each night, let the straw mattress down in
| to shallow bath-tub-like cavity, so protect
| ing themselves from the wind that blows in
] gusts through the warped window wood