Part 62 (1/2)
”Fer you, Aleck,” Harry adds
”For your tenth anniversary,” corrects ”Coz” ”Good luck to you, Aleck”
Mutely they grip my hand, and steal out of the cell
In solitude Iremembrance These ray walls These, and others like therave; all through the long years they have been co, and the end is not yet Robbed of joy and life, their being is discounted in the economy of existence And all the while the world has been advancing, it is said; science and philosophy, art and letters, have ments misery and crowds the prisons? The discovery of the X-ray will further scientific research, I aht that will discover in huress? Deceptive is the advance that involves the ruthless sacrifice of peace and health and life; superficial and unstable the civilization that rests upon the treacherous sands of strife and warfare The progress of science and industry, far fro man's happiness and social harmony, merely accentuates discontent and sharpens the contrasts The knowledge gained at soand sacrifice bears bitter fruit, for lack of wisdom to apply the lessons learned There are no liainst itself, exhausting its best energies in sanguinary conflict, suicidal and unnecessary And these, the thousands stepated by Society for her own folly and sins There is Young Harry A child of the slu hand Motherless, his father a drunkard, the heavy are of ten From reform school to reformatory the social orphan has been driven about--”You know, Aleck,” he says, ”I nev'r had no real square meal, to feel full, you know; 'cept once, on Christe of nineteen, he has not seen a day of liberty since early childhood
Three years ago he was transferred to the penitentiary, under a sentence of sixteen years for an atteanza reform school, which resulted in the death of a keeper The latter was foreether with a number of other youths The officer had induced Harry to do overwork, above the regular task, for which he rewarded the boy with an occasional dainty of buttered bread or a piece of corn-cake By degrees Harry's voluntary effort became part of his routine work, and the reward in delicacies came more rarely But when they entirely ceased the boy rebelled, refusing to exert himself above the required task He was reported, but the Superintendent censured the keeper for the unauthorized increase of work Harry was elated; but presently began systematic persecution that made the boy's life daily ht to revenge his defeat upon the lad, till at last, driven to desperation, Harry resolved upon escape With several other inmates the fourteen-year-old boy planned to flee to the Rocky Mountains, there to hunt the ”wild” Indians, and live the independent and care-free life of Jesse James ”You know, Aleck,” Harry confides to me, reminiscently, ”we could have made it easy; dere was eleven of us
But de kids was all sore on de foreo 'cept we knock de screw out first It was ood an' hard, an' den I hit 'ihtly But dey all said in court that I hit 'im both tiot soaked sixteen years” His eyes fill with tears and he says plaintively: ”I haven't been outside since I was a little kid, an' now I' in low tones, eep the range I shorten s the broorotesque The sickly features, pale with the color of the prison ash, resemble a little child's But the eyes look oldish in their wrinkled sockets, the head painfully out of proportion with the puny, stunted body Now and again he turns his gaze on me, and in his face there isthat has passed hi and heinous than the one Society has committed upon him, who is neither man nor youth and never was child? Crushed by the heel of brutality, this plant had never budded Yet there is theof a true man in him His mentality is pathetically prie, and latent virgin forces His emotional frankness borders on the incredible; he is uniant trees, yet ti It distressesthat comes into his eyes at the mention of the ”outside” Often he asks: ”Tell me, Aleck, how does it feel to walk on de street, to know that you're free t' go where you damn please, wid no screw to foller you?” Ah, if he'd only have a chance, he reiterates, he'd be so careful not to get into trouble! He would like to keep coly; he had never had one But he fears his days are nu very bad, and now that his father has died, he has no one to help hiet a pardon Perhaps father wouldn't have helped him, either; he was always drunk, and never cared for his children ”He had no business t' have any children,” Harry comments passionately And he can't expect any assistance fro in the factory ”She's been workin' ev'r so long in the pickle works,” Harry explains ”That feller, the boss there, hter give 'er enough to marry on” But he fears he will die in the prison There is no one to aid him, and he has no friends ”I never had no friend,” he says, wistfully; ”there ain't no real friends De older boys in de ref always used me, an' dey use all de kids But dey was no friends, an' every one was against me in de court, an' dey put all de blaainst me,” he repeats bitterly
Alone in the cell, I ponder over his words ”Everybody was always againstcry in the darkness, ”Everybody against me!” Motherless in childhood, reared in the fumes of brutal inebriation, cast into the sluernaut, was the fate of this social orphan Is this the fruit of progress? this the spirit of our Christian civilization? In the hours of solitude, the scheated design and divergent angle it presents an endless panorama of stunted minds and tortured bodies, of universal misery and wretchedness, in the elemental aspect of the boy's desolate life And I behold all the suffering and agony resolve themselves in the dominance of the established, in tradition and custo down the already fettered soul till its wings break and it beats helplessly against the artificial barriers The blanched face of Misery is silhouetted against the night The silence sobs with the piteous cry of the crushed boy And I hear the cry, and it fillsand injustice, with the shame of my kind, that sheds crocodile tears while it ss its helpless prey The subony to the ears of the world I have suffered with them, I have looked into the heart of Pain, and with its voice and anguish I will speak to humanity, to wake it from sloth and apathy, and lend hope to despair
The reat work I must equip myself for the les so desperately to defend its chains The day of , and I will devote my new life to the service of my fellow-sufferers The world shall hear the tortured; it shall behold the shahost of its crimes shall rise and harrow its ears, till the social conscience is roused to the cry of its victims And perhaps with eyes once opened, it will behold thein the world beyond, and Man will pause in his strife and mad race to ask himself, wherefore?
whither?
CHAPTER XLVI
A CHILD'S HEART-HUNGER
I
With deep gratification I observe the unfoldment of Harry's mind My friendshi+p has wakened in hily reiterated, he would apply hi the mapped-out course But as ti a thirst for knowledge that is transforreat power and character
Often Ifrom the depths of a prison friendshi+p ”I did not believe in friendshi+p, Aleck,” Harry says, as we ply our brooms in the day's work, ”but now I feel that I wouldn't be here, if I had had then a real friend It isn't only that we suffer together, but you have made me feel that our minds can rise above these rules and bars You know, the screws have warned ainst you, and I was afraid of you I don't kno to put it, Aleck, but the first ti walked right over fro to live for You know, I have seen so much of the priests, I have no use for the church, and I don't believe in i to me, and it was so persistent, I really think there is such a thing as immortality of an idea”
For an instant the old look of helpless wonder is in his face, as if he is at a loss to ht He pauses in his work, his eyes fastened onup his pallid features ”You remember the story you told me about theet excited, I drop into lish Well, you know the story you told me of the prisoners in Siberia; how they escape soh forbidden to house them, put food outside of their huts, so that an escaped man may not starve to death You reotten it”
”Forgotten? Why, Aleck, a feeeks ago, sitting atabout in the hall It looked cold and hungry I threw a piece of bread to it, but the Warden came by and ht of the peasants in Siberia, and how they share their food with escapedas I have bread? Now every night I place a few pieces near the door, and in the ins to dawn, and every one is asleep, the bird steals up and gets her breakfast It's the immortality of an idea, Aleck”