When a man, accused of crime, is convicted and sentenced in any of the courts of the State, a commitment is furnished the sheriff, by the clerk of the court. This document is a writing, giving the name of the prisoner, the crime of which he stands committed, and the term for which he is sentenced. It is the authority given the sheriff to convey to the penitentiary the person named therein, and to deliver him to the warden. As soon as the warden receives the commitment he assumes control of the prisoner, and retains it until his term of service expires, or is liberated by pardon or some court decree. It is curious to note how differently prisoners act on coming to the penitentiary. Some of them quake with fear and tremble as the aspen leaf. Others weep like whipped children. While others do not seem to mind it much. This latter class is chiefly made up of those who have served terms before, and have had experience. The officers try to crush the spirit of the criminal the first day he enters. The poor culprit, already quaking with fear, is spoken to in a cross and harsh manner, as if he was going to be struck over the head with a club the next moment. He is locked up in the reception cell, a low, dark dungeon. To use the expressive language of the prison, he is left in this dungeon to "soak" for an indefinite time, often for a day and a night. In this dreaded spot, in his loneliness and shame he has an opportunity for meditation. I don't suppose there ever was a person who, in this reception cell for the first time, did not heartily regret the commission of his crime. Here he thinks of his past life. The days of his innocent childhood come flitting before him. The faces of loved ones, many of whom now dead, pass in review. It is here he thinks of his loving mother, of his kind old father, of his weeping sisters and sympathizing brothers.