The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1908-04-25
Within the Prison Doors.

WSAL III dt Tue open uOOF OF the ward
ems Office Warden O'Fallon, white
haired, bureaucratic Of manner, with
crisp, metallic voice, sat at his desk
and peered from under bushy brows at
the women. Jayert himself could not
have been less emotional.
Your age?" he said, peering under
the bushy brows at Katherine.
"Twen-Oh, we'll, 3d."
"And your" to Charlotte.
Il am a."
4 brought her up" volunteered the
voluble Katherine.
"And right badly, l should say"
came in the warden's crisp, biting
tones. Murphy. call Miss Moriarity."
The matron, stout, soft-voiced, firm
willed, entered She looked the WON
en- prisoners over with level glance.
Katherine preened and hdgeted, trying
to display her prettlness in a good
light She flushed when she saw by
Matron Moriarity's cool glance thar
for her she had no individuality. She
was merely on "of the new batch"
The First Night in Jail.
Come this way" said Miss Mortar
ity, and the female prisoners followed,
marching in pairs, Katherine still the
companion Of the bent, mumbling
Italian woman leering at her own un-
translatable jests; Charlotte striding
beside the negress. Across a wide
rooted court whose stone floor rang
with echoes Of the footsteps of the
prisoners, Miss Moriarity led her or
rather drove the prisoners, to the fe-
male department Of the workhouse.
The long, highwalled, narrow room
repeated the sound of their footsteps
holIowly. for the female department
was empty. The women were at work
in the laundry, the kitchen, or the
sewing-room.
The women sat down upon their mar
row cots for the very good reason that
there was nothing else to sit upon. In
the narrow, grave-like room, white
washed walled, was a small, rough,
triangular bracket that held candle,
a drinking cup, with space left for one
book, small Testament. At the foot
was an electric light. On a rough
stand stood a basin. That was all.
The prison smell hung heavy upon the
tiny room, for the only means of ven
tilatiOn was the barred door, through
the spaces of which filtered slight
hint Of the outer air that came through
the corresponding windows in the
great gray walls opposite the cell.
Nc Daintles at This Meal.
Such a supperl No trufles, no lob
ster, no champagnel Merely dry
bread and bologna and coffee, eaten
from a tin plate, or drunk from the
cheapest tin cups with but one aid,
for knives and forks are prohibited at
Blackwell's Island There, primitive
hands and primitive teeth are sup
plemented by one tin spoon. Instead
Of damask napery were rough, narrow
boards, scrubbed clean, but boards,
nevertheless.
This, after the sunny, velvet carpets
and silken draperies of their rooms at
the Waldorf-Astoria-th trufies and
Holsters and champagne and scented
cigarettes. The elder Of the Poillons
dampened three handkerchiefs while
she sat there waiting for the nasty
meal to be over.
The Poillon sisters on their first
evening at Blackwell's displayed no
appetite. At the end of the Is min
utes meal they Joined another process
sion. 1T seems to me they do moth.
ing but march here" complained Char
lotte peevishly She met the steel
gray eyes of the matron.
'You will find out differently to-
morrow" she said, dryly. There will
be professions, but there will be work
also"
To cells IS and 19 they went again
after tea There, although the cleo
trio light may burn until half-past
nine, there was darkness, and hilari-
Gus negress ratified the door of her cell
and cursed softly because the sound
Of her neighbors' sobbing fretted her.
Beginning the Long Day.
At Ave the next morning the gong
sounded. Every prisoner sprang out
of bed If she fingered she would be
punished. Punishment, she knew,
meant brief interview with the ward.
en-. and then the dark cell behind the
big iron door at the end of the mess
hall. The dark cell, every prisoner
can tell you, breaks the boldest spirit
and renders the widest captive hum
BILE in a few hours 1t is, they tell
you, an inferno of silence and dark
ness.
The women thrust themselves into
the ugly striped uniforms, combing
their hair back plain and smooth from
their foreheads and fastening It in a
tight. unbecoming knot at the back
of the head, as is the rule at Black
wells, and putting on the black
knitted prison hood, grasp the cell
pals In their hands and set forth on
the first procession Of the day Down
the stairs, through the corridor, past
the big doors. into the dawn Of the