The warden should possess great breadth of mind and force of character; be capable of bringing to his work large heart power; patient, yet decided; abounding with humane instincts, yet capable of using sterner means when essential; ever keeping wisdom at the helm, using true discretion, and be controlled by a strong desire for the highest good of all. He will be intent on studying how to address reform means to each with a view to the greatest success. At the same time he should look well to the true pecuniary interests of the institution.

The chaplain should be truly a man of God, enabled to bring large mental, moral and religious force to his duties, and alive, heart and soul, to the great work of raising up those under his care and presenting them to the world redeemed and saved.



31. The commutation system. This is a system established by legislative enactment a few years since; on condition of good behavior and a faithful performance of duty in one, to grant him a specified shortening in his term of sentence, and complete restoration to citizenship.

It was really interesting to witness the effect of this provision on the convicts, stimulating as it did their hope, and leading them to do the best they could to obtain this much coveted boon. The case of one will illustrate this feeling. He had been in the solitary, but did not seem to mind his sufferings there in the least. His great anxiety was whether he should lose his commutation. He suffered no little in mind in this respect. Indeed, every day gave us a clear exhibition of the influence this system had over the inmates' minds for good, helping the officers greatly in keeping order in their efforts at reform.

Now, if hope could be thus stimulated, and that to such great advantage, by this simple provision, what might not be accomplished by following more largely the same line of policy, that is, the hope-stimulating line?



32. Chaplain's proposed attempt at tobacco reform.

The chaplain made this proposition to the governor and council: "Put the prisoners on their option as to tobacco using with the condition that any who will disuse it, receive, once a month, or quarter, as the case may be, the amount thus saved in money, to be kept funded in the bank for him to receive, on certain conditions as to time, &c., after his release."

This proposition was made with at least four prominent objects in view. The first was to convert as many as could be from tobacco using; the second, to give an additional stimulus to hope among the prisoners; the third, to create an interest in the men in looking after money matters, a care for small items; and, fourth, to help them form the habit of saving and laying up.

This privilege was, of course, to be granted on condition of good behavior, and therefore as effective as could be toward prison order.

The proposer conceived that here was an element of great power for good to the prison and State. This forming a habit, in the former careless one, of looking particularly into the smallest items of money, with carefully saving and laying up, might work an entire revolution in more than one, leading them to habits of honest industry and thrift, an immense gain to the individual and the community.

But the rulers did not see fit to heed the proposal. If they had, no doubt quite a large number of the prisoners would have adopted the plan.



THE PRISON CHAPLAINCY

PART II.

Under the Punitive and Money-making System.

1. Warden chosen, and new arrangements for the chaplain. Some weeks of the new year had passed, when the warden's place was filled by the choice of J. C. Pillsbury, of Concord. Report said that the delay had been by reason of a division of sentiment on the case in the council chamber.

I directly waited on the new incumbent, at his office, to arrange for my duties. He seemed to feel that he had been put there for correcting important abuses that had grown up in the prison management, in what particular department I did not learn. But he laid out my work as follows:

"Chaplain, we will have the meetings held in the chapel as heretofore; that is, the males assemble Sabbath mornings at nine and enjoy the same exercises as usual, none else to be admitted except at my special invitation; Sabbath school continue Sabbath afternoons, and I will select such teachers as I think best. Wednesday evening prayer meetings to continue, I inviting in some of the religious men of the city to help carry them on, and not a prisoner be allowed to open his head in them. These fellows are here to be punished. They must not be called men, but criminals, for such they are."

Such in substance was my programme, on which this colloquy followed between myself and warden:

"Warden, you did not speak of admitting the female prisoners to the Sabbath worship in the chapel."

"No, I don't purpose to admit any females to that service."[1]

[Footnote 1: I understood his objection to be, that the sight of a woman is demoralizing to a prisoner.]

"But we can have a screen so arranged, that the women can not be seen by the men, though assembled as formerly, and I will be at the labor and expense of fitting it."

"No, I won't have a woman in the chapel."

"But do not the rules require the warden to assemble the females as well as males in the chapel Sabbath mornings for worship?"

"Oh, I call the women's work-room their chapel."

"But, if I am to hold a service with the women in their work-room after the chapel service, it will double my labors, and then not be as interesting and useful to them as if hearing the discourse with the speaker fresh and unfatigued."

"I don't ask you to hold a second service with the women, for giving them a sermon. Only go into their room any time in the week, some evening if more convenient, and offer prayer, and that will be all sufficient."

"How about commencing the school in the chapel?"

"Oh, I can't have anything to do with that, we are so tired, when night comes, with our other duties."

Thus matters were before me. What a cutting off! The question would be, "Is this cutting off a part of the proposed correction of prison abuses?" No secular school, no religious instruction of note to the female prisoners, and the screws put upon our prayer meeting so tightly as to render them of but little account to the prisoners.

As to the latter, I felt that, could the prisoners enjoy the privilege of taking part in them as previously, having only the warden, guards and myself present, it would be preferable to the new plan. This I proposed, to which the warden finally assented, and that from the fact, as I supposed, that it would rid him of so much outside attendance. This then was gained, though the other points remained immovably fixed.

I understood the warden to remark, "It is of no use for the chaplain to preach and labor with a hope of reforming these prisoners, for they can't be reformed." Then this expression, as of his saying, was told me,—"I will break up that Methodist camp meeting at the prison." What did the assertion mean? Was it a slur on our previous religious efforts? Or was it indicative of a shortening of our religious privileges? We had, at no time, any rush at our meetings, but few being admitted for want of room. A small number had attended and helped in our prayer meetings, more in the Sabbath school. All denominations were alike interested in the matter. Indeed, we had no denomination about it.

I brought the matter of the school and that of the females assembling in the chapel for worship to the notice of the governor, but the warden prevailed.



2. Chaplain almost resolved to resign, but decides to continue and arrange his work. Thus things put on so forbidding an aspect in every way, that it did not seem that I could accomplish any further good at the prison. True, I could draw my salary with almost nothing to do, the name go out that the institution had a chaplain, but being expected to drift on with the current, whichever way it might set, and at the end make up a glowing report of the prison doings and success, no matter what the facts might be. But my feelings rebelled at such an idea, and I thought, for a time, that I must resign, and almost resolved upon the step. Then the question would arise, Is it right to leave those who have appeared so earnest to improve and reform? Something said, "No." Friends, too, learning my feelings on the subject, said decidedly that I must remain at the post.

I was in a hard place. There were the sentiments as uttered above, then the general spirit manifested, speaking louder than words, that "reform moves are all interlopers in prison, having no sort of business here." After looking the ground carefully over in my mind and thinking of all the connections, I saw that, by a greatly increased amount of labor, I could furnish the prisoners with a partial substitute for the chapel school. I had a right to visit them in the privacy of their cells, from morn till the hour for retiring in the evening. I could therefore hear their recitations there separately. No one could justly complain of this. Hence, I decided to remain, and laid out my work thus:—Sabbath, usual service with the men from nine to ten, and services in the women's work-room till eleven; then in the hospital with Jones, the murderer, and others as their cases allow, till twelve; Sabbath school services in the afternoon, besides visiting cells as much as possible; on other days, to spend noon and evenings visiting the cells in turn, hearing recitations and imparting instruction in the common school branches; besides changing the books Saturdays, as already, to change them at any other time when called for.

Thus I voluntarily undertook three times as much real hard work for the prisoners as my duty had previously demanded. The new order seemed to render it imperative, for I could do nothing in the educational line without it.



3. Cells cleared of trinket-making and tracts. The former warden was accustomed to distribute tracts among the prisoners. He also, by the assent of the government over him, had allowed the men, who desired it, to employ their otherwise idle moments by making small trinkets, as hair chains, paper folders, tooth-picks and small fancy boxes in imitation of what was done in certain other prisons, thereby, as was supposed, securing greater contentment and better order among the men. The new warden condemned all this as a great violation of good prison order. The candles, also, were condemned, and everything of the kind, with all the writing material or waste paper found in the cells, was removed, the spoils carefully measured, and the number of bushels sent the rounds of the papers as an evidence of the former abuses in this prison and of his labors to correct them.

I asked if the prisoners did not need to have the waste paper, at least, remain. "Oh," said he, "they will look out for that themselves." I could not then see how, but subsequently learned, much to the cost of the State.



4. Necessity for the chaplain's undertaking what he did. This necessity arose, not simply from the demands of the inmates for educational and reformatory means, but also from considerations of good prison order. True, the warden had the vanity to think he could control the men in whatever way he might undertake. The show of his cane would be sufficient for any emergency. But there was human nature in the prison as well as out, and, from the circumstances, it would be strange if it did not show itself. By taking away the prisoners' educational privileges, and the various articles referred to, much idle time would be left. How would this be employed? These men would naturally feel angry at being deprived of what they had enjoyed so long, and prized. This now unemployed time would give them ample opportunity for studying means of revenge, and some would no doubt turn their acumen in that direction. If a prisoner had any smartness, he would feel, from the circumstances, almost impelled to give vent to mischief, and thereby make as much trouble as possible.

But, could I step in, and, by dint of effort, keep those minds agreeably occupied, I should do so much towards helping the warden to the desired subordination and order. No previous time in my prison experience seemed to demand so great efforts in that direction as now. Hence, duty appeared calling me to step forward, as I did.



5. New phase at the prison, and the chaplain's efforts. The first Sabbath morning came for chapel worship under the new order, and a sadder appearing company I never met, their countenances being expressive of anxiety and gloom commingled. The singing dragged, the instrument standing voiceless, as the one who had usually made it speak, was of the sex here proscribed, and the warden had not found another to take her place. It was hard preaching, for these once earnest hearers seemed to have hearts too full for hearing. But I endeavored to give words of hope, and to direct their minds to a heavenly Father who will ever carry his trusting children through the scenes they are called to pass. Of course I could make no allusion to present circumstances, or appear to recognize any change in the surroundings; but somehow I could not call the hearers "criminals." I pursued the usual course, addressing them as men, or friends, or perhaps brothers, for I was occasionally guilty of all that; but the word "criminal" never hung on my lips when addressing the inmates on subjects of improvement. In my view, such a course would have been like attempting to light a fire by applying the match with one hand and dashing on water with the other.

At the close of our services, as the warden, in his peculiar way, was giving some of his orders, I could see the crimson flush on more than one cheek, indicative of the feelings stirred within, the character of which I could only conjecture. One of his assertions was, as I understood it, thus: "I am warden here now. The days of bouquets and flowers are played out here," and more in the same vein.

In the women's room the countenances were not so anxious. They rather liked this part of the change, for it would free them from the task of preparing, Sabbath mornings, to appear in public. Still, anxiety was not entirely wanting. Sabbath school was this day omitted, as the warden had not obtained his corps of teachers.

On going my rounds for private counsel to the men in their cells, I found, in most cases, gloom and discouragement, they having generally heard of the warden's disbelief in their reform. It was really wonderful to witness the change a few days had wrought in the moral aspect of the prison. A frost in June would not make a greater change on the face of nature. I could but ask myself, "Why are things thus?" "At what are our rulers aiming?"

I went to each with all the cheer I could, exhorting them not to indulge in these downcast feelings, but to look upward with hope, and gave them the assurance that their educational privileges, as well as religious, would be continued, only with some change in their application, and pointed out in brief the manner, saying that each could advance in study as rapidly as in his power.

If any referred to their cell amusements being taken away, I met them with the remark,—"Don't trouble about that. You shall be furnished with all the books you can read and study, and I will hear your recitations. In this way, your time can be pleasantly and profitably occupied, perhaps making you the gainers." A few of these former trinket workers became more interested in their studies, but the most could not, by reason of their sight, thus being left to endure their privation as best they could.

When one would refer to his discouragement on account of the warden's disbelief in reform, I would meet him thus, "You are to look only to yourself and your God in this matter. What a fellow mortal believes or disbelieves concerning you is of no account. You have the power to go on in the right and be a good man. I know you have, and others who are good and true, men upon whose views we can all rely, also know it. What matter if the warden does think as you suppose? It is only his opinion. He wishes you to do well, and will be glad if you succeed in the right. But, should you turn back, it will confirm his views that you can not reform. You will meet with harder things than this in life, yet must not think of yielding the struggle, let what will arise."

These efforts tended materially to lift the cloud from the prisoners' minds, and give them more hope. It really gladdened the hearts of many to learn that the privileges, which they had come to love so well and esteem so highly, were still to be theirs.



6. S. school commences. The next Sabbath the S. S. was resumed. Nearly the usual number were present. A few Christian gentlemen from the city were teachers, a sufficient number to guard each prisoner and see that nothing contraband passed. These were good men, some having long been laborers in the school. On the whole, things appeared more encouraging than on the Sabbath previous. That frosty appearance had in a measure departed, though it was by no means wholly gone.



7. The warden's views considered. The idea that "prisoners can not be reformed" is contrary to Scripture, history, and experience. The former gives the assurance that the vilest, the chief of sinners, those whose sins are as scarlet or crimson, may be saved. Then history deals in facts where such have been radically reformed, and have become good men. Some who were once in prison are now upright, industrious citizens. Hence, the assertion shows lack of confidence in Scripture assurances and historical knowledge.

But one asks, "Do you think it possible to reform all, or a large proportion of prisoners?" We can assume it of those here as of the world in general. Whether out of or in prison, we are to sow the seed, and some will germinate. We must work, use all right appliances, and leave the event with God, not knowing "which shall prosper, this or that."

Again, the objection comes: "Prisoners will be often hypocritical, profess goodness from sinister motives, pretending to have reformed for a time, and then become as bad as ever."

Admit all this. But are not just such traits found in the world all about us? Where are there more wicked wretches than some outside the prison, who have "put on the livery of heaven to serve the devil in?" What meaner men inhabit God's earth than some who have succeeded in working themselves into the church, and can boast of coming to the communion regularly? How many profess and fall away on every hand, yes, sink deeper in corruption than before! The fact is, this pretended argument to the disadvantage of the prisoner is all a sham.

The prison, if rightly conducted, possesses certain means of reform, which can not be had outside. To illustrate: Here is a young man, who has never entered a school-house, or a place of worship, but has spent his time with vicious companions and in vicious habits. He falls into prison, where his home is a cell and silence his constant companion. Here he is removed from his former surroundings and opportunities for sinful indulgence. The loneliness and tedium of his condition soon become unendurable. He must, in some way, have relief. But no means lie within his reach except those connected with reform appliances. To these he is forced, by the pressure of his nature, to resort, simply for self-gratification, which he can find in hearing the human voice and in the connected exercises. He hears truth which he had never heard before, but which is permitted to fall on his mind with its full weight. He is thus led to reflect, repents of his sins, and becomes really a reformed man, a brand plucked from the burning.

The tendency of things, then, in a properly conducted prison, is reformatory. Therefore, let ours be managed on that principle, and all in our State, worthy of such a place, be there assigned for the requisite time, and, no doubt, one good, devoted, wide-awake man could do them more good than they now receive from all the religious means and labors outside put together.

"The sight of a woman is demoralizing to a prisoner." The reader will readily understand in what respect. If this be true, what a demoralized class must be our grown up, unmarried sons, our bachelors and widowers, with women constantly in sight. Then how wickedly does the warden himself proceed in taking certain of his men among the women to work; and in permitting women and girls dressed up in their finery to perambulate freely about the shops and buildings in sight of the men.

"But," it is answered, "the men are not allowed to look at visitors." True, but not being allowed is one thing, and not looking is quite another. If any man can make himself believe that, when a woman is conducted right into the presence of a prisoner, he will not obtain a sight of her, he possesses more credulity than falls to the common lot of men. The fact is, visitors about the shops are seen by the prisoners and thought of and talked about by them, no matter who pretends to the contrary. Every one knows this, who knows anything of a prison, let him say what he will. Then why select one spot, the chapel on the Sabbath, as a place where the sight of a woman is to be branded as a most polluting sin, and no objection raised to her being seen elsewhere almost daily and hourly? Consistency is a jewel.

If the sight of a woman is so demoralizing to a man confined in prison, how demoralized must he speedily become on leaving and meeting them everywhere! And what sinners prison managers in numerous other States have become through admitting women to moral labors in their institutions! What egregious sinning on the part of that State which employs a woman as chaplain of its prison, and she permitted to go freely from cell to cell in her ministrations of mercy!

In the army, in hospitals, or whatever place men are found needy and dependent, true women are freely admitted as ministering angels, with no thought of demoralization. Yes, the world lauds the heroism and devotion of many of these in poetry and song.

So far as I could learn, the influence of the women in the chapel did not produce the effect alleged. I inquired of some on this point, at the time of their leaving, and solicited the real truth. Take the answer of an intelligent young man, one whom I have no doubt is sincere and reliable,—"The influence on my feelings were not in a wrong direction, but wholly to the contrary. I should have been ashamed of myself at indulging an impure thought towards that lady under whose care I was so long in the Sabbath school. I rather felt humbled and filled with gratitude, that she should condescend to take me, a poor, wicked prisoner, not able to read or write, and labor so patiently and persistently to help me to what I now am, redeemed, I trust, and made a different man, largely through her labors. They were her words of hope and assurance which first stimulated me with the idea of an earnest effort to rise from what I was."

The fact is, some men have their passions and will think, whether seeing any of the other sex or not; and more or less are inclined to deeds of wrong. But, in the opinion of our best minds, the true course to pursue is, to admit judicious ladies, those of character and influence, to help in labors of reform.

"Motives of safety required the cell clearing." This was the pretended reason, but could not have been the real one, according to the warden's own words. One day, in passing along the cells with company, he remarked, "Gentlemen, vigilance, vigilance, is the only safety here! Lock me in one of those cells, and I would walk out in half an hour. There is no safety in this prison but in the watchfulness of the guard." This being true, the small articles which the warden found in the cells could make no difference in regard to safety, therefore, their removal must have been from other motives.



8. Chaplain's restrictions. These were not given at once and in detail, but were learned by experience. One afternoon, the prisoners being in the shop, I took the key, as sometimes before, when needful, to enter the chapel by the south door, where there could have been no possible danger had the men been passing to their cells; having gone a few steps, I heard the voice of the warden calling out, sternly,—"Chaplain, here, what are you doing with that key?" I informed him, and received the reply, "Bring that key right back. You must not touch a key." Quietly obeying, I returned the article and never touched it again, thinking, "If he will speak out to me as an irritated father to a vexatious boy, what can be expected for the prisoners?" He had a perfect right to require me not to use the key, and I had a right to a gentlemanly treatment. I uttered not a word, though I could not help thinking. Afterwards when needing to enter the chapel, I must ask a guard, perhaps a mere boy, to go and unlock and lock the door for me, which seemed really ludicrous. Shortly after, I heard the warden speaking of his enormous burden in the line of watchfulness,—"I have to watch not only the prisoners to keep them right, but also the workmen, overseers, guards, steward, physician and chaplain."

At another time I asked him to change the position of a class in the Sabbath school to accommodate the singing, and received an answer not so insolent in tone as before, but, with the connected circumstances, equally clear for me to understand that I must propose no move, make no suggestion whatever about the school, leaving everything in that line to him. I could open and close the school and hear also those not otherwise provided for.

Again, finding a man in his cell with no lesson, he having broken his glasses, I passed them to the deputy to be repaired. Days passed, and no glasses were returned. Meeting the warden, I alluded to the matter. He replied, "Chaplain, I would have you know that when a man needs anything, he must speak of it to the deputy or to me. You have no business with these things." To my inquiry, "Am I to understand that now, after speaking to you about the glasses, and putting them in the deputy's hands, the man must speak to one of you himself, before they can be returned?" he answered, "Certainly." Hence, on my next round, I said to the owner, "Please speak to the warden or deputy about your glasses, and they will return them, probably, all right," not giving him the least hint as to how matters really stood, though I could but think, "Here is red-tapeism with a vengeance; not permitted to speak of anything in my own department." Waiting for a time, and thinking that neither law nor gospel would object to my lending him my own, this I did, which he used until liberated. True, after some weeks, glasses were brought him, in which, however, he could not see.

Thus I was effectively taught my bounds, to touch nothing about the prison but my books, to suggest no change any way, and to bring nothing to the warden, or deputy, about a prisoner, which bounds I was ever careful to observe.

There was an attendant rule to this red tapeism, as I understood it, that bore hard on the prisoners,—that one must ask for a thing but once. Some would ask me to help them to an article, when I would say, "You must go with that to the deputy, or warden." They replied, "I have, with the promise of it, but it does not come." Or, perhaps, "I ventured to ask the second time, and received the stern reply, 'Don't you ever mention that to me, again.'"

A forlorn condition this,—the State placing her wards helplessly under a man who is not to be reminded of a request, which had slipped his mind, perhaps, through the multiplicity of business. Surely, such a man should be very considerate and particularly careful about attending to the needs of his dependents.

The lessons taught me, the spirit manifested with all the surroundings, gave me to understand that I must walk in everything with the utmost circumspection or be mercilessly dealt with. True, I had ever labored to do all things in my prison management just as I should, ever acting with an eye single to the best prison order; but circumstances now evidently demanded of me a double care, that my every step should not only be right but appear right, and no shadow of grounds for complaint be any way found.



9. Prisoners' Aid Association. In the spring of '70, a company of ladies and gentlemen organized under the N. H. statutes into a corporate body by this title, to hold its annual meeting in the city of Concord, the second Tuesday of each June, the avowed purpose being to aid the discharged convicts by proper advice, and help them to places of labor without delay, where they may enjoy the needed society privileges, guardian care, and a general influence in favor of their best success, paying for them such small bills as may be necessary for this purpose.

The legislature of that season voted the Association three hundred dollars, to aid it in its benevolent work, I being appointed agent for that purpose.



10. Complaint of prison hunger. Late in the summer, a man, leaving prison, complained that the prison living was not as good as that of the past year, the rations being poorer in quality, and less in quantity; that, at times, he had really so suffered with hunger that he could not sleep at night. I questioned him carefully, and he appeared honest in his statements, still, this being the first I had heard of such complaints, I would not form an opinion from this assertion, for he might be telling the story to injure the warden. But he gave this account here and there in the city, so that it was circulated widely. A lady, as she asserts, asked the prison physician if the rations had been reduced, and he replied that they had to some extent.

The reader will understand, that while I had no right to converse with the inmates about their food, and other like subjects, and did not while they were there confined, yet, when they had been released and become citizens, nothing lay in the way of my freely conversing with them on all matters as with others.



11. Chaplain's object in hearing from released prisoners and others. This object was purely to learn the true working of things, and thus be prepared to conduct myself understandingly in all my prison duties. I had served a year under a certain system, studying with care its workings and effects on the men, and had now entered service under one that seemed measurably different, the operations of which, also, I ought to comprehend. I would, therefore, listen to those who were released, study what might come to hand in this way, from personal observation in official intercourse, or from reading authors, and use whatever hints were gained, to the best advantage.

But one says, "Those fellows from prison will lie." Grant that. Grant that here are twenty of the greatest liars in the State about to leave prison in course. But they have no opportunity, while there, for mutual conversation and planning a particular story to tell on leaving; nor do they even know of having an opportunity, outside, to talk with me or any particular one. They severally leave their confinement, each giving account of his experience, which I put down. On looking these carefully over, a line of substantial agreement is found running through the whole. We cut off whatever, in any, seems essentially deviating. But every judge in the land will admit that that general line contains the truth.

This illustrates my course of procedure, and my grounds for believing prisoners. Then, again, where one voluntarily, without my alluding to the matter, gave me an account of a subject, part of which I knew to be correct, I had every reason to believe the remainder was correct, also.



12. B. and E.'s request, and the connected abuse. These men, before spoken of, had become much interested in the moral and religious instruction given by those lady friends, Mrs. E. and D., to whom they had been introduced in the manner already pointed out. Request was extended to the warden that they might have the privilege of corresponding, but he peremptorily refused; why, none could conceive, though some would contend that the reason must be found in the vindictive, for the correspondence was to go through the usual channel and be open to his own inspection, that, had anything objectionable appeared, he could have suppressed it, or stopped the whole correspondence. Those ladies were capable of writing excellent letters, letters by which any right-minded man would be benefited, the warden himself being judge. I have no doubt that should he meet some of their productions, unaware of their authorship, he would pronounce them of a superior character, and say that "the more of such writings the prisoners can have to read, the better." The men did not ask for a personal interview with those ladies, but simply their words; words which would stimulate them to higher aims, and enable them the better to endure the trials of prison life. The warden possessed the right, if he chose to exercise it, to interdict this correspondence wholly. But I protest that he had no right to defame those ladies, villify their character, and speak of them to those men, and to prison visitors from whatever part of the country, as "those mean women," "those base women," "those low women."

As before stated, they were ladies with the best of characters,—earnest Christian workers, invited to the interviews by the mother and warden, and always having them in the presence of the latter. These visits were for a most praiseworthy purpose. If it is ever right for a high-minded, upright, Christian lady to call on the fallen for the purpose of helping them rise from their degraded state, those ladies are to be commended for the efforts they made in behalf of those prisoners.

But these men were forced to suffer no little abuse in relation to those visits,—not by fellow prisoners, understand. They were taunted in the most vulgar, low, indecent language. One day it went so far with one, that he became aroused beyond endurance, and replied, "You know that is a —— —— lie," filling the blanks with two most profane words as qualifying "lie." On my next round he told me his trouble, what he had said, how he was being assailed, and that he probably must relinquish all idea of being any better. I replied, "Don't you understand what all this is for? It is the work of Satan, for your destruction. They would excite you to anger and turn you to your old life of profanity and wickedness; if possible, sink you as low as ever. You have but one course to pursue, and that is, to pay no attention to them. Let them say what they may, give it no more notice than the idle wind. Be sure and not suffer yourself to become irritated, or say a word in return, and they will probably leave you. But if not, endure it patiently, and pray God to forgive what you have done amiss and keep you in the future." In following this course, he succeeded better.



13. Alleged prison conspiracy. The next one who left made no complaint of the living, he had been sick and received all the food he desired, but he asserted that trouble was brewing at the prison; that they were planning to kill the warden. I made light of the idea as something of his own conjuring up, that the prisoners would not undertake such a matter. Finally he said, "Mark my words, Chaplain, there will be blood shed over there within a month." This man was a singular genius, and I thought he might wish to start such a story to nettle the warden. Besides, they were as vigilant as possible at the prison, and the inmates would find them alert, should they attempt to rise. From all considerations, I thought it not worth while to speak of the case to any. Still, it would do no harm to prepare and deliver a discourse from the text, "Vengeance is mine and I will repay, saith the Lord," designing to show the impolicy of attempting to take vengeance into one's own hands, and that vengeance should be left for God to repay.—The discourse was given, and things passed on as usual, no signs of an outbreak appearing, and I finally gave the matter up as one of the man's imaginings.

But, the next spring, one of the prisoners, when leaving, alluded to a combination of a number, the year previous, and said considerable preparation for the work had been made, but after hearing that Sabbath's discourse, so many abandoned the project that the leaders had to relinquish their effort. This was repeated in substance by another. Hence, after all, it appeared that what the first man said may have been true, and that, possibly, my poor labors may have been of service to the warden, perhaps saved his life. Certainly, I did what I could.



14. National Prison Reform Congress. In October this body assembled for deliberation at Cincinnati, O., it being the first gathering of the kind. Delegates were present from a large number of the United States, also from the British Provinces and South America, but I was the only one from New Hampshire. The great, central ideas pervading the body were the finding of the best method of prison management and how to introduce this to general and uniform use. All the subjects so earnestly grappled there, would hinge around these. The field was somewhat widely examined and much discussion awakened,—discussion earnest, though courteous. The religious element largely predominated, and great harmony prevailed. True, an atheist attempted to throw in a firebrand by making a cat's paw of the Jew, but wholly failed, not exciting a single remark in reply. A U. S. judge was present, several State judges, a number of governors and ex-governors, lawyers, clergymen, philanthropists in private life and prison officials, showing that the move had taken strong hold of that class, especially, which will push it forward.

Those prison officers present who had ever persisted in the knock-down argument of former generations, were moved forward many years. I thought of N. H., and wished that some of her fossils could have been present and become vitalized. What a blessing it would be to the State!

The points considered and settled, so far as that body could settle them, were drawn up in thirty-seven articles for general distribution. One set forth reform as the paramount object of imprisoning, another, that kindness and humane treatment should prevail in all prison management. But the reader would be well repaid by sending for the "Transactions" of the body, a work of some seven hundred pages, and carefully perusing it. It will cost three dollars, and is to be had of Rev. E. C. Wines, D. D., No. 48 Bible House, N. Y.

The convention was not only pleasant in itself, but also in its surroundings. The city extended it a welcome through an excellent address by the Mayor, inviting the body to a dinner and visit to its public institutions and places of interest, and furnishing coaches to convey the members. It also provided a convenient hall for the sittings. A number of the city societies also invited us to their gatherings.

This Congress arranged for its perpetuity by becoming an incorporate body in some State and holding its sessions biennially. This has been consummated by obtaining a charter in the State, of New York, Ex-Governor Seymour being President, and Rev. E. C. Wines, Cor. Secretary. It also took incipient steps for an international congress to be held in London, England, choosing Dr. Wines also as Commissioner to carry the proposal into effect.



15. Money-making and punishing, the paramount objects in our prison management. For a time, I had been at a loss about the real objects of the present manner of conducting prison affairs, but it had become evident that money-making and punishing were those objects. To the former the prison agent and warden seemed bending their united energies as best they could. They would make a better exhibit of gains than ever before, a great compliment to the one as a financier and to the other as a prison manager. To this end, they would bend their efforts in purchasing and disbursing, having, to appearance, left all moral considerations out of the question. I was informed that the warden said, "I will clear five thousand for the State this year, if I have to use up every man in doing it."

Then punishment was to go hand and hand with this gain making, as the warden was reported as saying to the prisoners, "I mean to use you so that you will not wish to come back," meaning, of course, usage beyond what the law and courts contemplate.



16. Waste paper in the cells. The warden's clearing the cells of this has been spoken of and a connected point, I could not comprehend. In the course of months, all became clear. The fly leaves of the library books, and some of the other leaves, were gone, which told the story.

Had it been the season previous, I should have detected the matter sooner and stopped it, but now I could not. Then, when the general repairs were made to the library, I found that many of the books had been lost, to avoid which, in the future, I adopted a new method here, of charging every book let out and crediting its return. But this required no little increase of labor, in consideration of which, the former warden furnished me an assistant in the book charging and book inspection. On two Saturdays after the new warden came in, I asked for the usual assistance, but, from what passed, I found it best to ask no more for aid, and decided to do the work myself as best I could, continuing the account keeping, however, though with no possibility of the former inspection.

I supposed the warden desired me to curtail the book changing, for, passing the table one day, loaded with books ready for the hall, he said, "Why, chaplain, the men don't need all those books." My reply was, "They called for them all." "Well," said he, "they can not read them;" meaning, as I took it, that I should not furnish so many. But I was particular to give out all called for, a more generous supply, it is true, than formerly, for the purpose of keeping the men engaged and quiet under his peculiar management.



17. Defective beds and bedding. Those iron cross bars to the bedsteads cut the straw, hence the former warden made it a point to refill the beds once a quarter, but the latter filled them perhaps once in six months. Indeed, some would be neglected till nothing could be found in the bed-tick but a mass of chaff-like substance to which the straw had been reduced, thus leaving the occupant with little besides the bare slats on which to sleep. Men would at times complain that, from that cause, they could obtain but little rest at night, and were in the morning so sore and stiff that, for a time, it would be difficult for them to move.

During the fall they did not attend to the needed general mending and refitting of the old comfortables and bedspreads, though some were ragged and filthy, or worn so thin as to be but little better than so many strainers. The cells on the lower floor were exceptions. But few of these were used. All the beds were kept well filled; having good spreads, sheets and pillow cases. They made a few comfortables for these unused beds, and indeed all these cells were kept in good order, nicely dusted, &c., and the doors were set open by day for visitors to admire. Hence, I would hear them crying out, "How nice you keep things here! What comfortable beds! How neat!" I would think within,—not aloud, for that would not do,—"O that you could look into those higher up. You might cry out, 'Pig's nests!'" These new comfortables were made only two-thirds the usual width, answering well for an unused bed. Still I did occasionally see one on a bed in use.

As I was informed, a gentleman from outside had a view of those upper cells, the warden saying, in excuse for their condition, that he put the more slovenly in them, those who would not keep their cells in order. But the real truth of that matter is, some of the neatest men occupied those higher cells intermingled with those not so neat, the men being located as to their cells according to their position at work in the shop.

The sheets were so scarce as not to afford a full change for washing, requiring some to use dirty sheets, for a time, from another's bed, though less dirty than their own.

The former warden had been aiming to have, so far as could be, two suits to a man, a common, every day suit, and one better for Sabbaths, &c., it being thought that this would tend to refine and elevate the prisoners. Hence, he left them with a generous supply, well fitted up. But it would need more or less renewing and refitting in the fall, which it did not receive, but was made to answer by patching. Hence, patched and ragged clothes would be of no uncommon occurrence, as all became thin from long wear, the under-clothing, especially, much needing repairs and renewing.

The main seamstress left the next April, and told me that after this warden came in, up to that time, they had made one new suit and one other jacket, the new suit for the Newmarket murderer, who was too large for any they had on hand.



18. Cracked wheat dinner. In the fall, there was much complaint among the prisoners that their Monday dinner, which they formerly prized as the best in the week, had been changed to a dish that few liked and many could not eat. It was boiled cracked wheat with a little meat chopped in, no sauce or other relish upon it. I mentioned the case to the doctor, who said, "They purchased a quantity of potatoes, half a peck of which I took to my house and cooked, finding only one or two, among the whole, fit to put into the human stomach. Hence, I looked over my army dietary, found the cracked wheat answered a good purpose, and proposed it here." The potatoes were watery.

My attention had now been so loudly called to the prison living by the complaints of those liberated, that I determined to observe for myself, so far as opportunity might offer, keeping my own counsel in this as in all other matters, that I might be the better prepared to judge of the truthfulness of their stories. Notwithstanding the cracked wheat, those potatoes were set before them. If not at this meal, they were at others, but largely returned untouched. The substituted dish would also be regularly returned by a large number. But why purchase these potatoes "not fit to be put into the human stomach"? True, many such were in the market, but there were good ones, too, though costing more money. Families in the city found no difficulty about obtaining a good article. These, of course, came at a low figure, favoring here, as did everything else, this money-making idea.



19. Bad fish, &c. In the fall, the agent informed me, he had made for the state what he considered a great bargain, in the purchase of between one and two tons of fish. He said, "I found this in the hands of a man who had attempted to prepare it after a certain patent, but had, some way, missed his point and could not sell it. Had he succeeded, it would have brought thirteen cents a pound. He offered it to me for three. I took some to the prison, and they said that they could use it, hence, I purchased the whole." He further remarked, that the article was covered with a reddish mold. This, I was informed, is a sign of decay in fish. He also alluded to the great reduction in price he obtained on his prison supply of molasses.—It should be understood that this is used at all times in prison, on bread, as a substitute for butter.

After this, those leaving prison had these additional grounds for complaint. They complained, also, that the tobacco was very bad in quality and scant in quantity, the very cheapest article. One said that the scent of the fish carried into his cell at noon, would not be gone on his return at night. A woman, a waiter on the prison family table at the time of the purchase of the fish, informed me of its ordeal there. Nothing having been said to call her attention that way, but of her own accord, she said, "They bought a lot of bad fish at the prison, and the warden would have some prepared for the family table. He ate of it himself, pronounced it good, and wished the deputy, guards and overseers to eat of it also; but they would not, though he offered one a dollar, if he would." Now, as this woman's story was true as to the purchasing of the article and its quality, we have every reason to suppose it true in other respects. One said of the cracked wheat, that he could not force it down; it would made him sick; that others about him were similarly effected in their attempts to eat of the article.



20. Prison suffering from cold during the winter of '70 & '71. From the character of the food and clothing, the one not fitted to generate the needed supply of warmth within, nor the other to give the requisite protection without, the men, to pass the rigors of winter, especially such as that of '70 and '71, without suffering, would need an unusually generous supply of artificial heat in the hall and shop. But instead of that, they were forced to experience the biting reality of a cutting off here, too, the place being too important for money-saving not to be used. True, it would cost something, but the custom had been to keep the hall comfortable through cold weather. Early in the morning they would let the steam into the shop and have that warm when the men were ready to commence their work, and keep it so during the day. But a different policy had now been adopted.

The present fall had nearly passed and no steam had been admitted into these apartments at all, the cook-room and reception-room drawing from the waste steam and engine boilers. People outside had long been using fires constantly and freely. At length, a remark of the warden to company, revealed the theory he was pretending then to act upon. The temperature, at the time, was low in the hall, and some excuse evidently appeared to be needful. The remark was this: "I have not let the heat into this hall yet, for I think it best to do with that as people ought to do with regard to under-clothing, keep it off as late as possible in the fall, and it will do them more good in winter. And, besides, these stones were so heated up last summer, that they have not become fully cooled yet." "What a happy thing for the men, when shivering here, as they do with the cold, could they find some of that stored up heat," thought I. But they could not, and hence were called to experience a severe foretaste of what lay before them in still colder weather.

But at length the hall boiler was set to work, bringing warmth and gladness to the men. And how cheerful and thankful they appeared! It was really a comfort to witness their relief, as I went about my labors. This, however, was only for a few days, for a great drain was being made upon the wood-pile, incurring too large a draft upon the prison gains to be endured. The boiler was stopped, to be run no more for the winter, dependence for heat here, in the future, to be had upon the steam, waste or otherwise, from the shop boilers, and even that but sparingly.

The custom adopted was to let the steam into the hall pipes just before the men were to enter from work, could it be spared from the cook room, sometimes perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, and then turned off early in the evening. That, of course, could do but little good, and hence a really keen atmosphere would at times be felt in the hall, causing much suffering there. How great the contrast to that of the office, which was so warm that the occupants would be at work with coats off; or the reception room, where I would perspire in labor upon my books, and enter the hall to find it much like going directly out of doors. Twice I thus took severe colds, after which I usually wore an overcoat to this apartment during the severe weather.

When those keen nights came on, some of the men would beg of me most pitiably for more bed-clothing, asserting that they were suffering alive, it sometimes seeming as though they must perish. I could only direct them to the warden or deputy for this. One said, "I have asked the warden, who replied, 'You have more clothes on your bed now than you ever had at home,' and passed on." This man had one of those strainer-like spreads and another somewhat thicker, doing well enough for early fall, but not a suitable protection in such weather. Another said, "Suffering so with cold that sleep is out of the question, I arise, dress, wrap about me what bedding I have, and walk my cell for the night, in that way keeping as much as possible from suffering."

The first evening after hearing these earnest pleadings, I met the steward and asked if he could not furnish these men with more clothing, with the answer, "The fact is, these fellows are down on the warden and determined to keep asking for something." To which I replied, "They very much need more clothing, and must greatly suffer without it." He answered, "Oh, our soldiers in the army suffered a great deal more than these fellows do, and you thought nothing of that. The fact is, you have too much feeling for these men." I left, with the remark, "I think we ought to have some humanity about us."

Thus was the attempt made to plaster over this outrageous cruelty by alluding to events which could not, in the very nature of things, be avoided. I say outrageous, for there was bedding enough on those unused beds, such as it was, to have done something towards relieving this suffering, but they would not permit them to have that. Then New Hampshire possessed wood and water enough to keep that room comfortable. If the boiler needed repairs, workmen for doing that were at hand; or, if it needed renewing, that could have been easily accomplished. Or they might have set large coal stoves at work.

But all did not thus lack for bedding. Some, by oversight or favoritism, had a surplus, using comfortables as a substitute for straw. A man thus supplied sent one of his extra number to the relief of another, as this sufferer subsequently informed me.

On those cold Sabbaths, the men would wrap their bed clothing about them, sit reclining on their beds, and read. The warden would not allow the shop to be warmed at all. Those cold mornings and those cold days it was excessively severe. The overseers had to bundle up with extra clothing to prevent suffering. One day the men had become too much benumbed to work and the foreman stopped the machinery, let the steam into the shop, thawed them out, and then went on again.

Having heard the warden say that the water in their reservoir was low, causing him fears of its failing, and meeting the governor, to his inquiry about our prison affairs, I alluded to the coldness there and the warden's remark, and received the reply, "Why, it won't do to let the men suffer with the cold. If need be, he must haul water from the river," and he sent the warden a letter to that import. But no water was hauled, and no amelioration had from the cold till, at length, when the severest weather had nearly passed, one of the council visited the prison and ordered a coal stove to be placed in a part of the hall, which gave a measure of alleviation. Still the men continued to suffer more or less till the change of weather brought the desired relief. They will ever look back to that as a suffering winter.

The women probably suffered less from the cold than the men. Still, they were put on short allowance and were obliged to carry their wood up those two flights of stairs, taking it from quite a distance out of doors, some of it being very large. One of those cold Sabbaths, entering their room for meeting, I found it so cold as to endanger my health, and, not then knowing the restrictions, I attempted to kindle the fire, but found only a few coals in the stove and one large stick in the box, which I placed with the coals, but with little effect. We had short exercises, and I left them to endure this temperature as best they could.

The women would watch the warden and steal a little extra, when he stepped out of sight, thus occasionally enjoying the genial warmth; if detected, however, to receive a gratuitous lecture. Finding, at length, that this extra labor was preying sadly upon their health, and having repeatedly importuned the warden for relief in vain, they turned to his wife, who informed him of the real effects being produced, with the assurance that the continuance of this drudgery would shortly bring the sufferers upon beds of sickness, requiring him to hire outside help, to care for them and perform the tasks in which they had failed. This gained the victory, but not till great injury had been done to the victims, the strongest, on whom the burden of carrying the largest had fallen, having thus laid the foundation for weeks of severe sickness and leaving prison an invalid, though previously a robust, healthy woman.



21. Lighting the hall. The candles having been banished from the cells, the gas was set at work when evening arrived. But at length the men began to complain of the great strain upon their eyes, and finally of failing sight. Advising them to lay aside reading and study till relief could be had, I reported the matter to the doctor, and, I think, to the governor. Not seeing any remedial move, however, I resorted to the dollar and cent consideration, and, on investigating, found that, while they were paying $50 per month for that poor light, I could light the cells with candles, three a week to a cell, probably for fourteen dollars. I offered to obligate myself to do it for twenty, and receive only the actual cost whatever it might be below; also to see that no additional trouble came from the melting of the tallow. This argument prevailed, and the warden was ordered to furnish the candles, though he allowed only two a week to a cell. Some of the men were amused and some provoked at the manner of his announcing the change: "I have concluded to furnish you with candles, for your good, and hope you will use them as such;" for, it seems, they knew by what means the relief had come, though how I never understood.



22. The aid of the Association to released prisoners, and warden's course. The Association proved itself as advantageous to the discharged prisoners as the most ardent laborer for its establishment had hoped. An unusually large number left prison the present year, forty-two. In warm weather many would not require pecuniary aid, while others would. Thus, one required cooper's tools to the amount of six and one-half dollars; another, a railroad pass to Ohio, for twelve dollars; a third, a pass to Wisconsin, at thirty-one dollars; a fourth, carpenter's tools at six dollars; then smaller sums, here and there.

The Wisconsin man left prison sick, and must have been a public charge here, while his friends would give him a home, if with them, though unable to pay his fare thither.

The Association had not arranged for furnishing the men with clothing, supposing the State would properly attend to that, as previously, through her warden. But as the winter now approached, the society found itself driven to the necessity of helping in this, too, by the fact that the present warden would furnish the men with only the same outfit as in summer, the under-clothes they might happen to have on at the time, added. And, in making out this summer suit, he would construe the letter of the law in the superlative degree, which says, "A suit of cheap clothing,"—he obtaining the cheapest, the most miserably poor. To illustrate, a man left prison in one of those suits, and, before walking a mile, was obliged to call and borrow sewing implements to repair them. The day after, another left, and had worn the shirt furnished him about one day, when, taking him to a shop for the purpose of trying on a coat, I found that one sleeve of the shirt had wholly parted from the body, and the other about half. Another man had worn his pants less than twelve hours when they needed mending.

I went to the shop-keeper and lectured him for such dealing, to which he replied, "I have to be governed by the price the warden will pay. He will not pay for anything better. If he would, I should furnish a better article, and prefer that to this method."

At almost every turn I was met with this money-making system. Well, this could be endured in warm, balmy weather, though truly annoying to the poor fellows; but in the full rigors of the winter of '70 and '71, it was cruel, to say the least.

Let us take a few specimens of this practice. In nearly the severest weather of that winter, a man came to me from the prison to be sent home, some two hundred miles beyond Bangor, Me. As I looked at him I was perfectly astonished that we had a man among us who would think, for a moment, of sending away a dependent, human being, and sickly, too, in such a plight; a rather thin coat, vest and pants that might last him two or three days; no collar, cravat, mittens, overcoat, or boots, but brogans, and those not mates, one of which so pinched his foot that he was forced to remove it shortly after coming in. His person and clothes were filthy indeed, not having seen water for weeks. I could but exclaim, "What a condition! The law says, 'a suit of cheap clothing suited to the season,' and this is such a suit!"

In addition to all this, as the man asserted, the warden asked him, on passing out, "How long do you think it will be before you will contrive to get back here again?" Was not that cool? He himself robbing the fallen one of his just due, a suit of comfortable clothing fitted to the season, and turning him away under those circumstances which would almost of necessity force him to steal to avoid perishing, and then taunt him with such a question?

As yet, our Association had not practiced clothing the men, and of course the warden had no reason to suppose we should.

Keeping my feelings under calm subjection, I went to the prison and asked him if he did not purpose to furnish the man with boots, overcoat, &c., to which he responded in his short, pompous way, "No; when I was deputy here, the men were sent out in just what they happened to have on at the time." After talking till evidently of no further avail, I remarked, "I am a native of New Hampshire, and have some regard for the honor of my State, and I will never disgrace it by sending a man to Maine in such a plight as you propose. I shall fix him up." To which he answered, "I would not carry the matter too far." Well, I did not carry the matter too far, but took the man to the store, shivering by the way, and purchased for him the needed articles, cheap but good,—boots $5.00, overcoat $6.50, and so on,—and returned home with him, where he cast off his "filthy rags," took a warm bath, donned his new under-clothes and came out feeling like a different man, though feeble. He took a bad cold that day by being out in his thin apparel, and passed a hard night, leading us to fear that he would have a fever. But his anxiety helped him the next morning, when he set off, the railroad men giving him a free pass, thus showing that humanity was not all dead in this region.

Soon another was released in a somewhat worse condition, as to clothing, than the above, though with better health. His drawers had one leg wholly minus, the other coming down nearly to the knee, what pretended to remain being in tatters.

Two from western Maine were pardoned one evening and went away early the next morning in the suit given by the warden, without my knowledge. The severe weather must have caused them no little suffering, especially as they must end their journey by a long walk through a deep snow, with their brogans, and one of them was a sickly man.

Another, liberated without my knowledge, started on foot for Providence, R. I., to follow the railroad track. Learning the fact in a few moments, I hastened after him, but to no avail. I heard that his outfit was similar to those above described. I should have clothed him comfortably and furnished a pass by rail, had I overtaken him.

The warden now maintained that he had no concern with the men after leaving prison, and usually took no pains to inform me of their departure; hence, if I did not keep a close watch myself, more or less would leave without my knowledge. My practice usually was to obtain a list each month, from the deputy, of those who would leave during the four following weeks.

The reader will see that I had a good opportunity of knowing the state of the men's under-clothing, from those thus leaving; and further, I would find more or less mending their clothes on the Sabbath. One day a man was at work on his pants, which had become perfectly indecent to wear. On a week day, finding a man in bed in his cell, I inquired if he was sick, to which he replied, "No, I am having my pants mended." Another man brought out the shoes he had been accustomed to wear in prison. No, he could not do that; but they came out; how, I never knew, and he brought them to me. It would be difficult to tell which most abounded, holes or leather. I knew they were his, for I had often seen them on his feet in the prison; though they appeared much worse on a near inspection than at a distance.

An aged prisoner, whose feet were large and lame, wore his shoes sandal fashion, tying them on with such strings as he could find. When I would ask him how he did, he usually replied, "Oh, lame and suffering terribly with my feet." Having nothing but his stockings to protect them from the cold, this must have been severe in winter, though, when in the shop, his fellow prisoners would heat bits of plank and pass to him, on which he could stand and thus be relieved in a measure. I asked him if he could not wear his shoes in the usual way, to which he said, "No, they are too small. Had I very large ones I could. I have asked for such, but they will not obtain me any." The requisite shoes must have been made purposely for the convict, large and of very soft leather, costing, no doubt, more than ordinary shoes. But they would have brought great relief to an old, suffering man.

But our Prison Aid Association, notwithstanding its efforts for good, met those who opposed it. Hence, one told me that the concern was organized for the purpose of running an opposition to the prison, all I could say to which was, "If helping the men, as above described, be running an opposition to the prison, it was organized for that very purpose; otherwise, not." But the man was, no doubt, nettled that the prisoners were looked after on leaving prison, and not permitted to go as the warden provided.

Some, again, pretended that the influence of the Association was in favor of having the prisoners remain in and about Concord. This was the very thing we labored against, or one of them, at least. The Agent, and every active member, invariably used their influence in favor of their going to other places, and especially to keep them away from their old haunts and associations. I knew, however, that there were influences used here, and among prison officers, too, to keep men in the city. Some, for whom I had provided good places away, were tampered with and thus influenced to remain.



23. Lecturing for the Prison Aid Association. To widen the influence of this body and become personally acquainted with places where we could send our men for suitable employment and care, the idea was conceived of giving occasional lectures, in favorable localities within the State, on the interests in question. For this purpose, I went out four times during the winter. Besides treating upon the objects and needs of the Association, I alluded to some of the prison matters, such as the proposition in the governor's then late message for the management of the institution to be put under a permanent Board, the responsibility of which the legislature largely shirked, by turning the whole matter into the hands of the governor and council;—for reasons given, the very place where it should not be;—expressed the hope that the next legislature would do its full duty upon the matter; referred also to the much needed repairs just made, and hoped they would be carried still further, improving the manner of lighting the prison by having a small gas jet at each cell, also provide a library room, &c.; but of course I wholly avoided alluding to the internal management of matters at the institution. My attention was called particularly to this point, however, in one place, by the question being publicly asked by a gentleman, "How are the prisoners treated there?" in reference to which I begged the gentleman to excuse me from answering his question, as I wished to keep the mind on other points. That was true, but it was not the whole of the truth. The question itself was not a proper one to answer then in that place. Could I have conscientiously said, "Well," it would have been done in a moment and been all right, but that I could not do, and besides, I hoped that our rulers would soon get their eyes opened, or the next legislature put things on a proper basis and matters pass off without having anything publicly said. Indeed, I knew but little then of the prison workings in comparison with what I afterwards learned.



24. Prison correspondence under the new rule. The former warden had solicited me to assist in the correspondence, and I would write for a prisoner occasionally, but pass it to the warden for his examination, till he said, "You need not pass them to me, send them yourself. You know what to write just as well as I do." Hence, I sent a very few in the course of a year without his examination. The reader will understand that all letters, to and from a prisoner, must be thoroughly examined, that nothing prohibited may pass. They are allowed to speak of personal family matters, but nothing of general, secular affairs. The prisoner would not be permitted, of course, to express any dissatisfaction at prison fare or treatment.

The new warden put the entire matter of correspondence into the hands of his deputy, without asking me to do anything about it. Hence, when subsequently solicited to pass a letter as before, I would answer, "I have no right to do that, and can not. You must pass your letter to the deputy." On one occasion, being rather hard pressed to step over the bounds and pass a line, with the assurance it should never be known, &c., &c., I gave the decided negative, adding, "It makes no difference whether known or unknown, the step will be violating the prison rule and my purpose is so to proceed that at all times and under all circumstances, I can say with a clear conscience, I have duly observed every rule." This ended all attempts to influence me in that direction.

Still, I supposed it proper and nothing inconsistent with good prison order, for me to speak of a prisoner's health and success to a friend whom I met outside and to the prisoner of having met the friend and of personal family concerns; or to encourage the prisoners to write to their friends, if thus requested by letter; or to write to friends myself, by request of the prisoners. I did something in this line a very few times, perhaps not a half dozen in all.

Meeting a sister of a prisoner out of the city, one day, I answered her earnest inquiries about his health, and his reform efforts, carrying back to him also a word about her health and a request that he write and send to the new place to which she was about to locate.

A man had a petition before the governor and council for pardon. As agent for our Association, I inquired of him if he had friends to whom he could go, if successful, or what arrangement he would need made for him. He answered that he left friends in England, years before, knew not whether then living or dead, but he would like to return to them if living. Writing as he directed, I soon received a reply stating that some were living, and some were gone, and the earnest desire that he return home at once to see his father alive, of which I informed him, and on account of which his pardon was soon granted, and he left.

Finding a man, who had been here a number of months, in a gloomy and despairing state because friends had not written him since being here, thus giving him reason to feel that they had cast him off, in which case he could not think of living, I wrote to these friends, urging them to what they ought to have performed before. Soon he addressed me, when passing, with a tone of cheer unknown in him since entering prison: "Chaplain, my folks have not cast me off. I have received a good letter from them. They will stand by me, which makes me feel a thousand dollars better." Nor has he learned how his friends were stirred to write.

Thus, in a few cases, I acted in this direction and that for the purpose of removing anxiety without and securing cheer and quietness within, though making no allusions to the one about prison managing or to the other of secular affairs.



24 1-2. Chaplain under a system of espionage. The former warden had been accustomed to keep his eyes upon the officers, as well as upon the men, to know that everything was moving orderly. The new incumbent took the same course, the correct one so far as that was concerned, in order to keep all matters in the prison perfectly straight. Nor did it lay me under any restraint, as I wished to do right, for the place, in everything, even though no eye might be upon me. My only anxiety in the course would be that I might so walk as to have my steps appear as they really were. Hence, my conduct there was constantly as though under the strictest inspection. And, of course, under these circumstances, I would do nothing but what I supposed to be correct, even if otherwise inclined.

Thus, having passed a number of months with our new warden, a prisoner said, one day, as I approached his cell, "Be careful, Chaplain; they are watching you to see if they can't find some cause for turning you out." Asking no questions, I passed on, not knowing what he meant. But it started a new idea. "Am I under a system of especial surveillance?" I then recollected having seen the guards frequently about where I would be hearing lessons, though I had not noticed but that they were looking after the men. By giving attention now, however, it was plain to see that they were listening to what I said.

At length an overseer left the prison, and, on leaving, unfolded to me the whole matter,—that they were set by the warden to watch my actions, note with whom I conversed, hear what was said, put it down, and report to him. He said, "I was set evenings to watch you from the guard-room, through the spy-hole, but never found anything to report."

Learning this, I could but exclaim, "Consistency indeed! The warden can furnish men enough for a system of espionage over me in the hall, when toiling under such disadvantages and fatigues to help the convicts in their efforts for knowledge, but will not spare even one to guard in the chapel, where I could teach with comparative freedom from all these drawbacks."

Usually, in this cell instruction, we spoke very low, just to hear each other and thus not disturb those in near cells, or interfere with the rule about stillness in the apartment; but, after this discovery, when seeing the guards hanging about, I would purposely speak loud enough for them to hear, and also when the warden himself would be listening to my Sabbath school instruction. And they had the privilege of hearing as good, wholesome truths as I was capable of bringing out.



25. The chaplain's pacific efforts severely taxed. We are beings of want, and if locked in a cell unable to provide for ourselves, it is wonderful to think how many things we should need to have furnished by others, or suffer. True, we can curtail our wants to a number very much fewer than artificial life would claim, but, when coming to the indispensables, they are not a few. Hence, prisoners, under the kindest treatment and well-furnished with food, clothing, warmth, and all that nature would seem to crave, will need to call more or less frequently for attentions, or find themselves lacking not a little. But under the saving system of this year, calls from the cells must multiply, and, if unheeded, give occasion for uneasiness, angry feelings and disorder. Hence, under such circumstances, the chaplain would naturally be called into the most active service. For, if we can not offer a man food enough to satisfy the cravings of his appetite, the next thing is to reconcile his mind to going without, or so engross his thoughts, that he shall not so keenly feel the gnawings of hunger. Or, if one is cold, and we can not bring the means of warmth, by presenting a satisfactory excuse or interesting the intellect, we may do him essential service in helping him calmly endure what he otherwise could not.

Precisely on these principles I acted, and engrossed the prisoner's attention as earnestly and interestingly as possible, always, when practicable, taking special pains to immediately furnish the thing called for; or to excuse, when I could; or turn one's sufferings to as profitable a lesson as could be, to him. Hence, when the cold was reigning almost unmitigated in the cells, for a few days, I would repeat to one and another what I heard the warden say, that "the water was low and he feared it would wholly fail." Among the replies, one said, "Well, then, we must bear it the best we can, though it is hard."

One day, coming to a man's cell to hear a lesson, he said, "I have no lesson, I have been in the solitary. They did so and so to me, at which I got mad, and would not do as they wished, and they put me in there." I thought it likely, from the circumstances, that the impatience of an officer and his irritating course had much, too much, to do with the matter. But that was not for me to hint at, even. I rather said, "Well, you say you got mad and have been in the solitary. See what you have suffered for getting mad. How much better for you to govern your temper. You know where you are, what you did to bring yourself here. You understand what is required, and that refusal on your part is of no avail. Now, why not govern yourself, no matter what they say? If you really think they bear hard upon you, control your angry passions, and do what they require as cheerfully and promptly as possible. Thus, you can become accustomed here to governing yourself, that, when you go out, you will be the better able to meet the vexations of the world. Now, will you not try this course?" He replied, "I don't know, Chaplain, it is a hard case." In a few days he remarked, "Chaplain; I have been almost constantly thinking of what you said the other day, have come to the conclusion that your way is the best, and am resolved to attempt putting it in practice." With most hearty congratulations on his new resolve, I left him again. Some weeks after I received from his lips this satisfactory report: "Well, Chaplain, I have been practicing your method since our last conversation, and find it works like a charm. I have but little trouble now, and am determined to keep on as I have begun." Thus he proceeded till released. This man was naturally irritable and easily angered. He had not previously labored to control himself in regard to this important point; but now, when summoning all his better powers to the task, he resolutely addressed his mind to it, and a noble victory was his.

There was another man here who also could be easily aroused, but was perhaps still more stubborn, when angry. He, too, had been an inmate of the solitary more or less. To him I appealed in a manner similar to the above, and, after persistent labors, succeeded in inducing him to earnestly try the proposed course, and with like results. But he was a man who needed frequent encouragement to help him calmly endure the vexations and annoyances almost constantly surrounding him. Hence, he maintained his self-control and kept from trouble while he had one to labor for his continuance in well-doing, but afterwards he fell into difficulty again, and would consequently become an inmate of the solitary. Thus I proceeded, and, by assiduous efforts, robbed this dark abode of many hours of occupancy.

There were others not rendering themselves liable to the dungeon, but who would become filled with angry, revengeful emotions at what they were forced to endure. I would labor to induce these to use what they experienced as a means of self-culture, to leave the acts of others in the hands of God, submit calmly to what they could not avoid, do their own duties faithfully, and in all things keep themselves strictly in the right. Thus I was almost constantly called to speak a word here and a word there to a pacific end, and labored untiringly in that direction.

In the women's department, also, these efforts were found needed. One of the inmates, whom we will call K., had often caused them no little trouble. With all their efforts, she would contrive to keep almost a constant broil among them. Hence, I decided to see what could be done, in her case, by moral and religious efforts. Therefore, one Sabbath, after our usual service, I remained awhile for personal conversation with the inmates respecting their desires and feelings on the subject of reform, purposely coming to K. last. After conversing awhile with her on religious subjects, I came to the direct inquiry, "Now, K., will you not turn from your former course and seek to become a true Christian?" She looked upon me as though perfectly astonished at the question, and answered, "Why, Chaplain, that would be of no sort of use. Here I have been going on in my career of life these twenty years, and, should I attempt to turn now and become good, no one would put the least confidence in me. It is of no kind of use." I labored to assure her that she was mistaken in this idea, that would she truly repent and turn from evil, people would see it, and learn to confide in her the same as in others who had reformed, also asserting that she had the power for making of herself a most excellent, useful woman, if she would use it aright. I referred to what she might have been, what she had lost, how much she had suffered, the condition to which she had brought herself, and the prospect still before her, if she went on. At length the tears began to glisten in her eyes; she yielded and said, "Chaplain, I will try." The next Sabbath I asked her how she succeeded, with the answer, "Not much, but I am trying the best I can." Retiring from their room, I asked the attendant how they had prospered the past week. "Oh," said she, "first rate. We have had a perfect reformation. Everything has been peaceful and quiet, no fretting and scolding,—a perfect change." And so it was when I left the prison. But I learned that K., after my leaving, became discouraged, was thrown from the track and returned to her former habits. And no wonder, there was so great a lack of prudence and skill in managing there, so much of a vexatious character.

My position was one of difficulty, needing all the wisdom and discretion I could command. The prisoners were looking to me for direction on the one hand, while jealous watchfulness followed every step on the other.

Thus I went on, constantly doing what I could for the best good of the institution in whatever way practicable. No matter what course others took concerning me or the prison, my duty was to act with fidelity and in the fear of God, which I endeavored sacredly to do.

One rule I constantly carried with me, never deviating from it on any occasion, which rule was, not to give a word, or hint even, against any prison officer or prison move. This seemed essential to the best being of the prisoner. For, if really wronged, my deviation from that rule would tend to impress him more deeply, make him feel his wrong more keenly, and excite to greater irritability, resulting, on his part, perhaps, in more disorderly acts, and, consequently, greater trouble. Then, on my own part, such a deviation must be perfect suicide, so far as the plan might be concerned, showing the authorities conclusively that I was unfit for the position, and giving them the most urgent reasons for putting another in my place.

A moderate share of common sense would teach one to keep very wide of such deviation. Then it could be of no avail. If censurable things were being done in the prison management, the rulers were the parties for one to approach respecting them, those having the power to apply the remedy.



26. Death of Gideon Sylver. This man had been in the army, was a good soldier, strong and vigorous; very quiet and obedient; faithful to his task and never complaining, but seemed intent on doing the best he could to please those over him and thus share their good will. He was set to carrying lumber in and out of the dry room, exposed to extremes of heat and cold, at times perhaps having wet feet from want of proper shoes, till, failing in health, complaining of distress about the chest, the doctor ordered him to lighter and less exposed work, when he was set to running a planer, said, however, to be a very hard machine to run, though subsequently made easier by rollers attached. Here he grew no better, but had severe attacks. One day, in his distress, he fell on his knees, girding his arms about him and groaning repeatedly. The deputy took him from the shop and returned him relieved. But soon he wholly failed, was taken away for the last time and kept in his cell, part of the time quiet and then groaning more or less intensely. To my inquiry about the locality of his distress, he put his hand over the left lung. Sabbath evening, Feb. 10th, I think, his distress came on with great severity, he, making no little ado, said, to my inquiry whether he needed anything more, "I have a powder to take, which will no doubt relieve me," and appeared disposed to make the best of his condition. Meeting the steward, I asked if all was being done for the man that could be, with the answer, "Yes, I think there is. The fact is, not much ails him. He is nervous; thinks he is dreadful sick, and makes a great ado." I passed on, thinking that Sylver must be a very sick man notwithstanding these views, that, when one naturally so patient and quiet makes such demonstrations, there must be reason for immediate assistance. It seemed to me that the hospital was the proper place for him, and that he ought to be there receiving suitable warmth and close attention. But understanding that I might say no more, and meddle no farther, I retired, feeling that the man was in a forlorn condition.

The cold in the hall was not as severe now as formerly, for the weather had become milder without, and that coal stove, before referred to, stood not far from Sylver's cell. This helped in a measure, but came short of the warmth needful to a sick man like him. Things passed thus, with more or less of his moaning when I was in, till Wednesday evening, on which, by reason of the prayer meeting, I did not visit the apartment. Thursday noon I heard no moaning, but when the men had retired for their work, I called to visit the sufferer and found his cell empty, he having been carried to the hospital. I went to my dinner, purposing to return and visit the hospital immediately after; but, being detained, at length saw a coffin carried to the prison, and, on inquiry, learned that Sylver was dead. He died a few minutes past twelve, when I was known to be at work in the hall, but nothing was said to me about the event. How my heart sank within me, though, of the events of that terrible Wednesday night, I then knew nothing. The facts subsequently came to light in their revolting features. They were gathered from the steward, overseers, guard and released prisoners, investigated with all care, and are, no doubt, correct, as follows:

Sylver grew worse Wednesday evening, groaning often. The steward came, and, after giving him the usual attention, said, "Now, Sylver, there is no use in your making such a fuss as this. Dry up and go to sleep." Sylver replied, "I would, if I could; but my sufferings are so great I can't help it;" to which the steward responded, "Yes, you can, if you only think so. Dry up, if you don't want to go into the solitary," and left, with the groans falling on his ears as he passed from the apartment.

At nine the night watch went to his task in the hall, and found the inmate almost incessantly groaning, with interludes of prayer,—"Lord have mercy on me; do help me; forgive my sins," and so on, also suffering intensely with the cold, locked in his cell that none could approach him in attempts at relief. The watchman's heart was stirred, for humanity's promptings were not dead in him. He looked about for something that might afford warmth to the agonized man, and found some bricks, which he warmed and passed through the grating to the sufferer, who for a time had strength to take and place them around him for relief.

The other prisoners could not sleep. Raps would be heard from one and another for the watch to go to them and explain. Others would cry out, "Call the deputy and have that man cared for." At about eleven, the prisoners began to stir determinedly, when the watch called a guard and sent for the deputy to come and care for Sylver. But he gave no heed to the summons, except to send the guard back to the hall, who went to the sick man's cell, made efforts to still him, and left. Those near said they heard the word gag there used, and understood that the sufferer was receiving threats of being gagged, in case he did not stop his noise.

As the guard retired from the hall, all hope of relief for the doomed one came fully to an end, he being now literally left to his fate. He would still engage in prayer,—"Lord, have mercy on my soul; Lord, why won't they come and do something for my relief?"

Had the cell door been left unlocked, the watch could have done much more towards affording the needed warmth, and been more effective in efforts for his relief. But that privilege would not be allowed. At length the man became too weak and exhausted to take and use the proffered bricks, which ended the offices of kindness the watch was struggling to perform. Finally, the moaning grew more and more faint, and was of such a tone as to give clear indication that death had commenced its work. The sad hours wore slowly away. The morning finally arrived, and the men were called to their tasks, the now feeble moans dying upon their ears as they passed out. At length, when suiting his convenience, the warden went to the dying man's cell. Seeing the result of their work, he hastened for the doctor, whom he found just starting on an imperative call. But he hurried to the prison to see the man a moment and direct the means to be used till his return. He found him thoroughly cold, as though dead, and ordered him to be taken at once to the hospital, the most vigorous rubbing to be used by two men, and other means for restoring warmth. For a time he revived somewhat, but these efforts, however beneficial they might have been in season, were of no avail now, for death soon closed the scene.

The brothers, summoned by a telegram, were present in a few hours. A post-mortem examination was had, at which one asked, "What was the matter with the man?" to which the doctor answered, "Probably some difficulty about the heart." An invited physician responded,—"From what I hear, I think it a clear case of congestion of the lungs;" one of the worst cases of which, it was found to be. A consulting physician said that the case must have been a number of days in progress.

The reader must make his own comment on this whole affair.[2] My feelings were never more stirred. We were terribly shocked at Pike's murder of the Browns, those feeble, old people. But he dispatched them at once; neither, perhaps, experiencing a moment's sensibility of suffering. True, the man lived a number of hours, but was probably not sensible of pain. But Sylver, in his agonies, begging and pleading for help, was forced to pass that terrible night carefully locked in his cell, and no heed given to his cries. Had they ended his sufferings with a single blow, without any threats of the dungeon or gag, he would have been thereby saved from the piercing agonies of those slowly dragging hours. Would not that have been compassion in comparison with what they did? But one says, "That would have been murder." True, and what was that treatment in reality? With due care and attention the man might have recovered, but they so proceeded that it was absolutely impossible for him to live. No man with a lung difficulty could survive such treatment. The blow of an ax, severing his head from his body, could have been no surer means of death.