Many of these women have their tender, spiritual moments. At such times they will beg for a favorite hymn to be sung at the chapel service on Sunday, and their requests are generally granted by the chaplain. He is the only friend of the prisoner, and his work is arduous and often thankless. He is the only one within the walls to whom she may turn for sympathy and advice. It may not be every woman who gladly avails herself of the enforced privilege of attending daily chapel. “Religion,” as a term, is unpalatable to many. But there are very few who are not better and happier for the few moments’ unofficial talk with her chaplain, be she Protestant or Roman Catholic. It is to be regretted that his authority is so limited, and his opportunities for brightening the lives of those who walk in dark places so few. Red tape and standing orders confront him at every turn, so that even the religious training is drawn and sucked beneath the mighty wheel of the Penal Code, and there is no time for personal suasion to play more than a minor part in a convict’s life. MY WORK IN THE KITCHEN The work for first offenders, who are called the “Star Class,” consists of labor in the kitchen, the mess, and the officers’ quarters. Six months after I entered upon the third stage I was put to work in the kitchen. My duties were as follows: To wash ten cans, each holding four quarts; to scrub one table, twenty feet in length; two dressers, twelve feet in length; to wash five hundred dinner-tins; to clean knives; to wash a sack of potatoes; to assist in serving the dinners, and to scrub a piece of floor twenty by ten feet. Besides myself there were eight other women on hard labor in the kitchen. Our day commenced at 6 A.M., and continued until 5:30 P.M. A half hour at breakfast time, twenty minutes at chapel, one hour and a half after the midday meal, and half an hour after tea summed up our leisure. The work was hard and rough. The combined heat of the coppers, the stove, and the steamers was overpowering, especially on hot summer days; but I struggled on, doing this work preferably to some other, because the kitchen was the only place where the monotony of prison life was broken. It was the “show place,” and all visitors looked in to see the food. THE MACHINE-MADE MENU What dining in prison means may be judged by a perusal of the schedule as given in the Prison Commission Report: DIET FOR FEMALE CONVICTS Breakfast Three-quarters of a pint of cocoa, containing ½ ounce of cocoa, 2 ounces milk, ½ ounce of molasses. Bread. Dinner Sunday. 4 ounces tinned pressed beef. Bread.