“I see, I see! Forgive me this little breach of routine where a human being's sufferings would have been prolonged by etiquette.” “Ugh! Well, it must not occur again.” “I trust the occasion will not.” “For that matter, you will often see refractory prisoners punished in this jail. You had better mind your own business in the jail, it will find you work enough.” “I will, Mr. Hawes; to dissuade men from cruelty is a part of it.” “If you come between me and the prisoners, sir, you won't be long here.” The new chaplain smiled. “What does it matter whether I'm here or in Patagonia, so that I do my duty wherever I am?” said he with a fine mixture of good-humor and spirit. Hawes turned his back rudely and went and reduced Robinson's supper fifty per cent. “Evans, is that sort of punishment often inflicted here?” “Well, sir, yes. It is a common punishment of this jail.” “It must be very painful.” “No, sir, it's a little _on_comfortable that is all; and then we've got such a lot here we are obliged to be down on 'em like a sledge-hammer, or they'd eat us up alive.” “Have you got the things, the jacket, collar, etc.?” “I know where to find them,” said Evans with a sly look. “Bring them to me directly to this empty cell.” “Well, sir,” higgled Evans, “in course I don't like to refuse your reverence.” “Then don't refuse me,” retorted the other, sharp as a needle. Evans went off directly and soon returned with the materials. The chaplain examined them a while; he then took off his coat. “Operate on me, Evans.” “Operate on you, sir!” “Yes! There, don't stand staring, my good man; hold up the waistcoat--now strap it tight--tighter--no nonsense--Robinson was strapped tighter than that yesterday. I want to know what we are doing to our fellow-creatures in this place. The collar now.” “But, sir, the collar will nip you. I tell you that beforehand.” “Not more than it nips my prisoners. Now strap me to the wall. Why do you hesitate?” “I don't know whether I am doing right, sir, you being a parson. Perhaps I shall have no luck after this.” “Don't be silly, Evans. Volenti non fit injuria--that means, you may torture a bishop if he bids you.” “There you are, sir.” “Yes! here I am. Now go away and come in half an hour.” “I think I had better stay, sir. You will soon be sick of it.” “Go, and come in half an hour,” was the firm reply. Our chaplain felt that if the man did not go he should not be five minutes before he asked to be released, and he was determined to know “what we are doing.” Evans had not been gone ten minutes before he bitterly repented letting him go, and when that worthy returned he found him muttering faintly, “It is in a good cause-it is in a good cause--” Evans wore a grin. “You shall pay for that grin,” said the chaplain to himself. “Well, sir, have you had enough of it?” “Yes, Evans; you may loose me,” said the other with affected nonchalance. “What is it like, sir? haw! haw!”