Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-08-20
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT.

Stripped of the formality necessitated
by prison discipline, his request as he
finally made it, was very much the same
in form and substance as 1t would have
been had they been two men sitting over
the fire in a college study, and amounted
to this:
II am engaged to a woman l fear to be
in trouble-it is uncommonly ridiculous
to believe in dreams-but this has be-
come an obsession with me, 1t is not pos
sible for me to write to her, and l know
that even if nothing fresh has happened,
her heart must be full of anxiety on my
behalf. Would it be possible for you, as
a favor amazing favor to very sick
man-to write to her
The chaplain interrupted him with
shake of the head.
Z am most awfully sorry, my dear
chap" he said. and there was genuine
regret in his voice, but it isn't possible.
1t is against the rules"
Remington made an impatient movement
of his hand.
YES. yes. | know" he said. But is it
Imperative that you should adhere to the
rules au pied de la lettre? / 90 not want
you to write for me-couldn't you, your
self
The chaplain sat down on the edge OF
the bed.
Look here, my dear dap" he said,
earnestly, eff l could would. But don't
you understand-you- surely better than
many of us here-that l. not of the whole
body of the prison, am most bound to
keep the rules? If l break them-how on
earth can 1 expect any one else to keep
them" He looked at Remington with
clouded eyes. IF there was anything on
earth 1 could do to help you, 1 would.
believe in you, you know don't know
whether that matters in the least. But
there is only one thing-L can do to help
you-and that I do"
Remington, who had looked at him ca
gerly. with a tightening face. sank back
on the bed with a faint sound of disgust
Pray you mean, l suppose he said.
And as the other nodded bitterness welled
up in his heart isn't it rather a waste
of timer" he said, turning away. Il am
afraid Bilmouth does not foster any be-
lief in the efficacy of prayer. Here
crawling coop't we live and die it jolly
well seems to me not much good to lift
vain hands to 1t for help
IT suppose you know | could report YOU
for a bad mark, A 44?' the chaplain said.
rising. change had come over his
pleasant face that made # like a mask.
There was nothing now but a dspleased
severity In his blue eyes. II shall not
do so, of course" he said, NOR report
the appeal you made to me. Good day."
He turned and was gone leaving the
bleak infrmary ward the bIeaker for his
going. Remington turned on his side and
groaned. What an ass he had been
what vulgar fool to insult the only man
who in that grim place of silence had
spoken to him as though he saw nothing
of the convicts dres71 needed nothing of
the convicts record but saw straight
through to the soul II the man below!
The convict in tt adjacent bed, who
had, judging from his breathing, been
sleeping during the interview, staggered
family.
"Riz is temper nicely, didn't you?" he
said appreciativey; lin and is pray
ers"
Raising his heed, Rimington swore at
his companion cornprehensively, in a man
ner that surprised himself. Then, turn
ing in his bed. te buried his head under
the coarse clothes and presently wept
tears of sheer weakness, WEAKNESS and
chagrin.
Ills Conscience.
Far away from the desolate prison ward
the prison chaplain, in his uncomfortable
sitting ROOM stood with his hand on
the mantedpiece, looking down into the
fire, which mere n Bilmouth seemed in
some strange WY to be less glowing,
less comforting looking than the ordinary
run of fires. In his heart there was rag
ing a conflict which might have sur
prised some of his fellows among the
prison officials, to whom discipline was a
fetish.
Had he done right in refusing the re-
quest of 9 man in whose eyes there had
been Hunger of appeal as had looked