Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-08-20
ToDAY's INSTALLNIENT.

Stripped of the Formally necessitated
by prison discipline, his request, as he
finally made it, was very much the same
in form and substance as il would have
been had they been two men sitting over
the fire in a college study and amounted
TO this:
Il am engaged to woman fear TO be
in trouble-it is uncommonly ridiculous
to believe in dreams-hut this has be-
come an obsession with me. II is not pos
sible for me to write to her, and l know
that even II nothing fresh has happened,
her heart must be full Of anxiety on my
behalf Would 1t be possible for YOU. as
a favor. amazing favor 10 a very sick
man-to write TO her
The chaplain interrupted him with a
shake of the bead
i am most awfully sorry, my dear
chap" he said, and there was genuine
regret in his voice, but il isn't possible.
1t is against the rules
Rimington made an impati movement
of his hand
YES. yes l know" he said. But is it
imperative that you should adhere to the
rules au pied de la lettre. do 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 chap he said,
earnestly, If could would. But don
YOU understand-you-s better than
many of IFS here-that !. not of the whole
body of the prison. am most hound TO
keep the rules? II | break them-how on
earth can / expect any one else to keep
them" He looked at Remington with
clouded eyes "If there was anything on
earth / could do to help you, ! would. ]
believe in YOU, YOU know don't know
whether that matters in the least But
there is only one thing | can do to help
you-and that do
Rimington 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. ! suppose2' he said,
And as the other nodded bitterness welled
up In his heart. Isn't it rather waste
OF time?" he said turning away. Il am
afraid Bilmouth does not foster any be
lief in the efficacy of prayer. Here
crawling coopt we live and die it jolly
well seems TO me not much good to lift
vain hands TO II for help
II suppose you know | could report you |
for bad mark A az" the chaplain said |
rising A change had come over his !
pleasant face that made II like a mask |
There was. nothing now but a displeased |
severity in his blue eyes Il shall not |
do so, of course, he said nor report |
the appeal you made 20 me Good day"
He turned and was gone, leaving the
bleak ln1rmary ward the bleaker for his
going. Rimington turned on his side and
groaned. What an ass he had been
what a 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 dress needed nothing of
the convict's record, but saw straight |
through to the soul OF the man below
The convict in the adjacent bed, who !
had. Judging from his breathing been |
sleeping during the interview, sniggered |
family
'Riz is temper nicely, didn't your" no |
said appreciatively; I'm and is pray
ers
Raising his head, Rimlngton swore at |
his companion comprehensivey, in a man |
ner that surprised himself Then turn |
ing in his bed, he buried his head under |
the coarse clothes and presently wept |
tears of sheer weakness WEAKNESS and |
chagrin.
His 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 here in Bilmouth seemed in |
some strange way to be less glowing |
less comforting looking than the ordinary |
run of fires In his heart there was rag
ing conflict which might have sur |
prised some of his fellows among the |
prison officials, 10 whom discipline was "a |
fetish
Had he done right n, ref,sir,, +b. ra
quest of a man in whose eyes there had |
been a hunger Of appeal as had looked |