In this very June I went to Winston Prairie on this errand, And after I had written several times To get a statement. I arrived at noon-- And yet the court-house offices were closed, The treasurer’s, the clerk’s, controller’s, all. I met a janitor who said: All closed Till half past one. That meant I’d miss my train Back to Chicago, and would have to stay In Winston Prairie until six o’clock. I sat down in the hall-way with a curse. But in a minute there were hideous yells, Shrieks, curses, as it were of women beaten, Tortured, or strangled. So I went to see, And found a door behind which I could hear Intolerable tears, the scratching of weak hands Against the door and wall. What is the matter? I hallooed through the door. O, go to hell A woman said, you know what is the matter. I don’t, I said, I’ll help you if I can. Then followed sobs and wails, and incoherent Blubbering of words. At last I saw a finger Stuck through the broken plaster by the door, And leaning down I said: look through at me. And then I stooped and looking through the crack Saw a gray eye, which looked as it might be Of Slavic birth. But who can read an eye Shown singly through a crack? So while I talked To get the story of these girls in prison, (For where they were was called the calaboose, Built in the court-house) some one back of me Said: They’ll be quiet in due time, the cooler Cools people off. I turned and saw a man Who seemed to be a judge, and was a judge, As I discovered later. Well, I said, I cannot bear to see a human being In such distress and terror--what’s their ages? One’s sixteen and one’s seventeen, said the judge, But they are bad ones, so I made the fine Enough to hold them thirty days. I asked What did they do? They were soliciting, The judge replied, and here in Winston Prairie The law is law and we enforce the law. We do not do as you do in Chicago. I felt my heart shut tight its valves and stop, And was about to say: You are a fool. You are what some would have America, You are an Illinoisan, damn your soul. You are a figure in the court-house ring, Whereof the tax shark is a figure too. But then I thought these girls might prove to be Worth while some time. But even if they live Street walkers all their lives, they stone no prophets, Devour no widows’ houses, do less harm Than court-house rings and judges in the rings. So this is what I said: May I enquire What are your Honor’s hours for holding court? And he replied: Court has adjourned till two. I hold till six o’clock, we do not loaf As judges in Chicago do, good-day!