I believe it is Emerson who says “that every institution is but the lengthened shadow of a single man.” This prison proved the assertion of the sage. I shall call the warden Thomas, for that is as far from his real name as any I can think of. His later years have been touched by a great deal of sorrow, and I am not inclined to burden his remaining days with a constant repetition of his shortcomings. I have mentioned the fact before that he was possessed of an executive ability of a high order. The institution was run like clockwork. Like cogs well turned to an exact fit, every wheel of the prison worked without jar or lost motion. He was distant from both the guard and the prisoner. His every effort was bent to the turning over to the State of a surplus, which he did yearly. The food served to the inmates was of a type both poor in quality and deficient in quantity. I have come away from the table on many occasions hungry. The washing of our clothes was never rightly done. The warden knew the soap cost money. We were allowed two ounces of soap for ourselves once a month; if that were not sufficient for our use, of course we had the privilege of buying it ourselves. Imagine two ounces of soap lasting a man a month? Gladstone said that he could tell the civilization of a nation by the amount of soap its inhabitants used. Imagine yourself the civilization made possible by this warden. The State was supposed to clothe the men in its prisons. In this one, however, most of the men clothed themselves. Outside of the suit of stripes it was usual for all of us to provide for our own wearing apparel. We also paid for our shaves and haircuts. We could have worn the ill-smelling clothes the State handed out to us if we had desired. But payment for our haircut was absolutely imperative. If we failed to pay, we went shorn of hirsute adornment. Of course all of this went toward adding to the yearly surplus of the warden.