Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-11-10
Genuine Rogers S

Ny cell-mate could not see me. 1 doubt
If he ever knew that a hand gave him
water His eyes were meaningless, and he
was so gaunt that his body scarcely made
a ridge on the bed
Some beans and mouldy bread were put
in for my rations. The turnkey asked me
how 1 intended to wash myself without
basin or ever or towels and inquired
further If he could be of service in dispos-
ing of my shirt or breeches.
What ails this MANI" .->t
He shrugged, and said the prisoner had
been wasting With fever.
You get fever in Ste Pelagie,". he ad-
ded. especially when you eat the prison
food. This man ought to be sent to the
infirmary, but the .infirmary is OVERLOOKING
now"
who is hep"
"A journalist, or poet. or some miser-
able canaille of that sort. He. win soon
be out of your way" Our guard craned
| over to look at his. "Oui-dol He is a
dying man! A priest must be sent to
him soon. 1 remember he demanded one
several days ago!'
But that day and another dragged
| through before the priest appeared. i sent
out my waistcoat, and got wretched
meal, and a few spoonsful of wine that
used to rnoisten the dying mans lips. His
| lie NAV OF may .AOL nave bCCn
but out of collapse he opened his mouth
repeatedly and took the drops. He was
more my blessing than 1 was his.
For I had an experience which has ever
since given me to know the souls OF
prisoners.
The first day, in spite of the cells foul
ness, laughed secretly at Jailers and
felt at peace, holding the world at bay.
did not then know that Ste. Pelagie was
/ ~. Cd nh
than one prisoner dragged out years with
out learning why he was put there.
was not brought to any trial or examin-
alton.
But gradually an uneasiness which
cannot be imagined by one who has not
felt 1t, grew upon me. I wanted light.
The absence of 1t was torture! Light-to
vivify the sitting air, which died as this
man was dying-as 1 should die-in blind
ing mirk!
Moisture broke out all over my body.
and cold dew stood on my forehead. How
could human lungs breathe the midnight
OF blackening walls? The place was hot
with the hell of confinement. / said over
, and over-"O God, Thou art Light!-in
Thee is no darkness at all!''
This anguish seemed a repetition Of
something 1 had endured once before.
The body and spirit remembered, though
the mind had no register. 1 clawed at
the walls If I slept, Ii was to wake
gasping. fighting upward with both
hands.
The most singular phase was that l
reproached myself for not soaking up
more sun in the past. Oh, how much
| light was going to waste over wide FIELDS
| and sparkling seas! The green woods, the
green grass-they had their MI OF sun
while we two perished!
remembered creeping out Of glare I'M
der the shadow Of rocks, and wondered
how 1 could have done it! II l ever
came to the sun again would stretch
myself and roll from side to side, to let
/ it burn me well! How blessed was the
tan we got in summer from sleeping IN
! light!
/ Looking at my cell-mate could have
rent the walls.
eve are robbed" I told his deaf ears.
''The light, poured freely all over the
/ city. the light that belongs to yon and me
as much as to anybody, would save you!
wish 1 could pick you up and carry
| you out where the sun would shine
through your bones! But let US be glad,
YOU and /, that there is a woman VINO Is
not buried like whitening sprout under
I this weight of stone! She is free, to
walk around and take the light in her
f, gray eyes and the wind in her brown hair.
/ / swear to God If L ever come out of
+; this 1 will never pass so much as little
plant PROSTATE in darkness, without help
! ing 1t to the light"
! It was night by the loophole when our
| turnkey threw open the door. heard
the priest and his sacristan joking in the
corridor before they entered carrying
their sacred parcels. The priest was a
| dodgering old fellow, almost deaf, for the
/ turnkey shouted at his ear, and dim of
sight, for he stopped close to look at the
dying man. who was beyond confession.
Bring us something for a temporary
altar" he commanded the turnkey, who
stood candle in hand.
! The turnkey gave his light to the sacris-
| tan. and taking care TO lock US in, hur-
ried to obey. ~
measured the lank, ill-strung assist
| ant. more an overgrown boy than man
| of Drawn, but expanded around his upper
part by the fullness of a short white
| surplice. He had a face cheerful to silli-
ness.
The turnkey brought board supported
| by crosspieces: and withdrew, taking his
| own candle, as soon as the church's tapers
were lighted.
The sacristan placed the temporary al