I asked a boy two weeks ago, a young man, and he said, “Warden, to get away from that cell; for,” he said, “to sit there on Sunday, every evening and on holidays and have that cell gate staring you in the face, it is hell;” and he didn’t say it to be irreverent or disrespectful, but it was his pent up emotions. I believe there is something debasing--debasing to a man’s personal manhood--about life in a cell that no one can describe. Our men plow, they harrow, they sow the grain, they reap it; there is no guard with them at all. Of course, these are men who are near the end of their terms, perhaps men who have three months or less to do; but every prison contains enough of that class to enable them to carry on this class of work, agricultural work, to a financial advantage. If we had to pay guards to be with these various men, we couldn’t do it; but we don’t. There is an indefinable something in God’s out-of-doors that has a beneficial effect upon humanity. I can not tell you what it is. “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but thou canst not tell whence it cometh nor whither it goeth. So is every man that is born of the spirit.” A few months ago a professor from the University of Kansas wrote a little poem of two or three verses; and one of the verses reads like this: “A breeze on the far horizon, The infinite tender sky-- The ripe, rich tint of the corn fields And the wild geese sailing high; And all over upland and lowland The charm of the golden-rod: Some of us call it autumn And others call it God.” Do you catch the spirit of those beautiful lines? They tell (what I should like to tell were I able) of the way God speaks to our delinquents out on the farm through the hazy atmosphere and the golden sunsets; they tell of the way God speaks to those poor fellows through the growing and the ripening grains, and of the message that God sends to them through the birds that sing and soar over their heads. It suggests that beautiful thought of Browning’s: “This world, as God has made it, Always glitters. And knowing this is love, And love is duty.”