“Let me see; oh, yes, they hustled me into a cell and locked me up. I guess they thought best not to waste much time, for a good many people had got together on the outside. “I think ‘twas on Friday they put me in. There wa’n’t nothin’ done on Saturday; but on Sunday they let us all go to church up in the chapel. They kep’ me pretty well guarded as if I might do somethin’ in the church, but there wa’n’t no way to get out if I wanted to. The preacher told us about the prodigal son, and how he repented of all his wanderin’s and sins and come back home, and how glad his father was to see him, and how he treated him better’n any of the rest that hadn’t never done wrong. He said that’s the way our Heavenly Father would feel about us, if we repented, and that it didn’t matter what we’d done—after we repented we was white as snow. One of the prisoners told me he was gettin’ kind of tired of the prodigal son; that ‘most every preacher that come told about the prodigal son just as if that story had been meant specially for them. “Some of the prisoners seemed to like to go to church; some acted as if they understood all about it, and wanted to do better, and some of ‘em seemed to go so as to get out of their cells. Anyhow I s’pose the people that run the jail thought ‘twas a good thing and believed it was all so. But I know one feller that killed a man—he was kind of half-witted—and was tried the same as the rest of us when they had that crusade against crime. Of course they sentenced him to death. He got religion and used to pray all the time, and used to talk religion to all the rest of the fellers, and ever’one said that he was really sorry and was fully converted and was as pure as a little child. But they took him out and hung him anyway. It don’t quite seem as if they believed what the preacher said themselves, or they wouldn’t hang a feller when he’s turned right, and when God was goin’ to treat him like all the rest after he gets to heaven.