... As we roomed together, I was with him more than any one else; and when not otherwise engaged, we read and talked together.... We were very frank with each other, and last Sabbath eve we had a long talk on religion. The reaction from a Calvinistic faith had evidently left him somewhat adrift. We talked of the cramping of creeds on the one hand, and the tendency on the other hand of (so-called) Liberal views to produce loose morals, etc. He dwelt on the fact that the perceptions of the mind were so much in advance of the inclinations of the heart, that men knew better than they did; adding, "Oh, I have often come so near to the wonderful process by which bad men are made good!" I reminded him that Paul said, "It is nigh thee, even in thy mouth and in thy heart,"--dwelling at length on the whole argument in Romans x. 6 to 13 inclusive. I remarked that my habit of urging these views earnestly for forty-four years might have become obtrusive; but he answered: "No; if these things are worth anything, they are worth everything. If duty here affects destiny there, these are matters of primary and not secondary consideration." Little did I think then that in twelve brief hours he would know their reality better than I possibly could. In saying good-by [the chaplain adds], he said he would write soon, was glad he had ever known me, but feared he _would not see me again_; then walked off feebly but cheerfully with ----, who carried his satchel, and to whom he was much attached--though a colored convict, yet much of a man. At 7:30 A. M. he went with Mr. L----, our purchasing agent, with whom he talked freely _en route_ to Chicago, who carried his satchel, helped him up the stairs in the depot, and at whose feet he suddenly dropped dead. A physician was called at once, but paralysis of the heart had stopped the wheel of life.... The boys here loved him _much_. B----, a special friend, gave him a pretty onyx cross for his little niece. I think he put it in his pocket. Some Boston ladies sent him several boxes of pamphlets and books for the library, advising him to keep certain volumes himself, and I hoped he had written his name in them or set them aside; yet C---- (colored) and T. J. D----, who aided him in the library (and mourn him as a brother) think he read the volumes they recommended, but made no further claim on them. Some prison employees, like some physicians, find their sympathies decrease by constant use. _He_ was not so; for there was not a drop of tyranny or despotism in his blood, and any one who used power simply to oppress another was beneath his contempt. He could consistently say to the Recording Angel, "Mark me as one who loves my fellow-men." Oh! had I known