“Thank you, sir,” returned Peace. “I do not think there is any necessity for that. I am better than I was; the bruises on my head are less painful.” “And your cell. Do you intend to clean it yourself, or procure a substitute?” “I’ll do my best to clean it.” The name he had given at the police-court was now entered on the list in the warder’s book. Two brushes were then given him, with which he was directed to polish the floor of his cell; and the warder instructed him as to the regulation mode of stowing his hammock and mattress on the shelf, and folding up his blankets and rug. All these details are easy enough to those who have been accustomed to manual labour, but they are of course very hard to one who has been gently nurtured, or moved in a respectable sphere of life. This is why prison discipline falls with such unequal force upon different classes of culprits. To a navigator, excavator, or labourer of any description, the treadwheel is a mere trifle in comparison to the effect upon those who have never been used to manual labour. Every morning Peace had to go on his hands and knees and polish his cell floor, as well as wash and scrub the table, stool, basin, and every article in the room. This was not a particularly hard task to him, while to others it would have been one of infinite labour. When the brief interview with his gaolers was over, his breakfast was served through the little trap in the door. It consisted of a pint of gruel and a slice of bread. A starving man will eat anything, it is said; but I expect many of my readers would have turned aside in disgust at the breakfast. Peace devoured it with something like a relish. There can be no possible reason for denying unconvicted prisoners the luxury of a cup of tea or coffee for their morning’s meal. We never could “abear,” as Mrs. Gamp says, gruel under any circumstances. But, of course, all men are not constituted alike. After breakfast he was told to prepare for chapel. On stepping outside his cell he was directed to turn round with his face to the cell door, to take his Bible, prayer, and hymn-book in his hands, and to hold them behind his back. This, again, is an unnecessary piece of assumption on the part of the prison authorities when dealing with an unconvicted person――one, indeed, for aught they know, may be as innocent of the crime laid to his charge as they are themselves. He had ample opportunity of contemplating the outside of the door, and seeing how the various mysterious appliances connected with it were worked. Being of a mechanical and, in many respects, ingenious turn of mind, he was naturally interested. He regarded with great curiosity the spy-hole over the trap-door, and was at no loss to comprehend how it was constructed. It was evident enough that the inmate of the cell could not see any person on the outside, but it was equally clear that a watcher outside could command the entire range of the prisoner’s apartment.