This was recorded in a book by a clerk. He was then asked his name, his age, where born, the date of his birth, trade or profession, married or single, together with a variety of other questions, which in most cases were seldom answered truthfully; nevertheless it was a ceremony which had to be gone through. After it was over he was introduced to the chaplain, whose room was in close proximity to the chapel. The manner of the rev. gentleman was kind and conciliatory. He asked Peace if he could read and write; the answer was in the affirmative. “Have you got good legal advice?” inquired the chaplain. Peace informed him that he had written to his mother to retain the services of an able advocate, and he felt quite sure that he should be acquitted, as he had no felonious intent. “I hope and trust you may. I feel assured that you will have a fair trial,” said the clergyman, who then informed our hero that he could have any books he liked from the library in the prison to beguile the hours during his imprisonment. “You are very kind, sir, and I have to offer you my heartfelt thanks,” said Peace, who was touched by the first words of consolation he had heard since his incarceration. “In writing to your friends,” said the divine, “I must give you a warning. All letters are opened by the governor before they leave the prison.” “Then I think it most unfair,” cried Peace. “We will not discuss that question; it is a rule which is invariably carried out, and therefore I deem it my duty to inform you of it. I advise you also to destroy all letters that come to you as soon as read.” “I will most certainly do so, sir,” returned Peace, who again thanked the chaplain most sincerely for his information and advice. He returned to his cell in a much more composed state; he looked hopefully to the future. After all, things were not so bad as he had at first supposed. Soon after he had returned to his cell he received a visit from the governor, who, like any other commander-in-chief, was attended by his aide-de-camp. “They’re very attentive to me,” all of a sudden muttered our hero, as he caught sight of the governor, who inquired if he wanted anything, looking up and down the cell with a searching glance. “I’m told I may have a few books to read,” said Peace. “Certainly――by all means you can.” “Then I should like to have one or two.” The prison official nodded, and before Peace had time to make any other requests he had vanished. Half an hour after this a number of books were brought to the prisoner to choose from. He selected two, which he was allowed to retain, with the understanding that there were more at his service when he had perused the two volumes. The records of prison life are necessarily monotonous. The poor prisoners find to their cost their state of existence especially so; but it is impossible that it should be otherwise. [Sidenote: No. 10.] [Illustration: PEACE AS AN ETHIOPIAN MINSTREL.]