To this I at once answered, "no." I wanted my
twenty-four hours' solitary confinement in which to reflect upon the
kind of "hard labor," prescribed in my sentence, I was willing to
follow for the next three years; and I also wanted information about
the branches of labor pursued in that prison. The next words of the
warden assured me that he was a kind and compassionate man.
"Go," he said to an officer, "and instantly take off those irons
when you take him inside the prison."
I was taken in and the irons were taken off. I was then undressed,
my clothes were removed to another room, and I was redressed in the
prison uniform. This was a grotesque uniform indeed. The suit was
red and blue, half and half, like a harlequin's, and to crown all
came a hat or cap, like a fool's cap, a foot and a half high and
running up to a peak. Miserable as I was, I could scarcely help
smiling at the utterly absurd appearance I knew I then presented. I
even ventured to remark upon it; but was suddenly and sternly
checked with the command:
"Silence! There's no talking allowed here."
Then began my twenty-four hours' solitary confinement, and
twenty-four wretched hours they were. I had only bread and water to
eat and drink, and I need not say that my unhappy thoughts would not
permit me to sleep. At noon next day I was taken from my cell, and
brought again before the warden, Mr. Robinson, who kindly said:
"You have no trade, you say; what do you want to go to work at?"
"Anything light; I am not used to hard labor," I replied.
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