The San Francisco call., 1897-06-06

rections great streams of water with force
enough in each 10 knock man over.
The noise ceased as they realized what
their punishment was to be. And then
arose again howls and curses and cries,
making the night hideou%
Ohl the awfulness OF it, the sicken ing
horror of realizing that such human be-
ings exist to crush out the good In the
world2
Gradually the yelIs decreased until
nothing more than m utterings and sounds
of batf1ed rage came TO the ear, mingled
with the sound OF the splashing water.
Still we stood and watched, speaking no
word, too sad at heart to even think, until
one by one the streams Of water were
stopped and silence reigned. And cool
breeze sighed across the quiet court and
just then rang out from the north wall:
"Ten o'clock! Ali's wei! y
And it was taken up and re-echoed from
every portion of the great place until at
last silence reigned.
'Poor wretches!" said Captain Birlem.
Imagine them shivering in the corners
| of their hali-flled cells"
care they penitent?"
''Not bit of it." he laughed. "They
IMAGINE they are badly treated, they
think that we are brutes and are wiIlfully
depriving them of their rightful liberty
! Strange it is that they do not realize
| that all this costs them more, and places.
| liberty further from them, but they seem
to have lost the power of reasoning and to
care only to cause all the trouble possible.
Eleven o'clock, and the sama call that all
was we'll. Twelve, and
Would it be possible to pass the dun
geon?"
Every one looked discouraging, few
shook their heads.
waited the while my fate was discussed,
and in about half hour they beckoned to
me from the door.
Silently we stole in through the gate, the
guards carrying dark-lan terms. Softly we
crept over the stone walks, around the
fountain in the center and past the lawns
and garden beds.
1t seemed long way. We passed the
stairs leading to the cell where Durrant
waited the passing of the hours. We stole
by the tall, dark furniture factory and to
the door of the dungeons.
The guards paused and softly opened
the door and silently passed in to the
WIeCheu anu OeSeT.eQ place. AT nrSJ Dy
the fash of the lanterns 1t seemed but a
long dark tunnel, but gradually 1 could
discern wrecks of chairs lying about
upon the floor at our feet, and unhinged
doors set back to one side of the corridor.
Along the sides were cells, fourteen in all,
into which it seemed no ray of daylight
could ever hope to penetrate.
The walls of the cells were damaged un-
til they looked as though a child might
have shaken them down.
"This wouldn't hold a baby safelyI'
some one said. Just look at those doors
They'll never be fit to be used again. 1t
costs the State some money to keep such
fellows"
Ought to be hung" growled one m
charitably; ''no good on earth," and he
made a movement to go beck.
/ followed slowly out OF the dark, un-
canny place. 1t held the same charm
that Rome's old ampitheater has, former
ly inhabited by wild animals and the
breath OF their wiIdness fingers about
holding with it kind of terror.
The stars were shining peacefully over
! the old prison. The searchlight from
| the hill flashed upon US as we made our
way back. but the only sound that dis
turSed the utter silence was the call of
the guards as we pass through the door:
lone o'clock-all's weIll'
MURIEL BAILY.