The prisoners seek to mitigate their misery. One asks: “Say fellows! what would you say now to a nice thick juicy steak with fried potatoes?” One “sings an excellent ragtime ditty;” another “follows with the Toreador’s song from Carmen, sung in a sweet, true, light tenor voice that shows real love and appreciation of music. “This is the place where I had expected to meet the violent and dangerous criminals; but what do I find! A genial young Irishman, as pleasant company as I have ever encountered, and a sweet voiced boy singing Carmen.” These entertainments over, the night drags on. The wooden floor proves a hard bed until a prisoner instructs him how to make a pillow of his felt shoes and his shirt. Bed bugs infest the place and after killing one, he imagines multitudes. The sick prisoner accidentally upsets his water can and soon becomes delirious, seeming likely to become a raving maniac. There is no way to summon an officer, but one of the prisoners with amazing tact and patience soothes his agitation until he finally falls asleep. At last Brown falls into a doze but is speedily awakened by a patrolling officer who awakens the prisoners at 12:30 and 4:30 A. M. but refuses his request to renew the water spilled by the sick prisoner because it is “’gainst the rules.” At 6 A. M. on Sunday, Tom Brown is released from his punishment, convinced that the “System” is illogical, antiquated, barbarous, cruel and destructive to the character of prisoners and officers alike. He is exhausted, body and soul; but he finds strength to make a chapel address to the prisoners, which must have been memorable. The prisoners are tremendously impressed by the fact that this man of education, culture and wealth has voluntarily endured for six days the same treatment as themselves, in the endeavor to understand their situation and, if possible, to improve it; they recognize that the cell, the march, the shock and the dungeon affect the man of culture and refinement more keenly than the ordinary prisoner; but the thing which affects them most profoundly is the vicarious character of his act. They would almost apply to it the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” Mr. Osborne is not content to discover and reveal the vices of the prison system but he seeks a practical remedy. To this end he has taken counsel, not only with the prison authorities and students of penological science, but also with the prisoners who live under the system and, some of whom, are keenly alive to its destructive influence. A prisoner in the shops gave him the basic idea. He says: