Within Prison Walls: being a narrative during a week of voluntary confinement in the state prison at Auburn, New YorkOsborne, Thomas Mott
History
Within Prison Walls: being a narrative during a week of voluntary confinement in the state prison at Auburn, New York
Osborne, Thomas Mott
Auburn Prison; Prisoners -- New York (State); Prisons -- New York (State)
Again in my cell I address myself to sleep; and succeed in getting a brief
nap, which is broken by my good friend Joe, who comes to make anxious
inquiries after my health. He has heard that I am sick and is much
concerned. I suppose he has learned it in the mysterious way so much news
travels--by prison wireless.
I relieve Joe's anxiety; and then comes Landry with whom I have a pleasant
talk on things in general, ending with religion. We are interrupted by the
arrival of Captain Martin; and I am considerably amused at the deft way in
which Landry has effaced himself and vanished before the officer regains
his breath after climbing the stairs. Captain Martin comes from the Doctor
to know whether I should like some milk.
"Thank you, sir, I think not now." I am on the point of adding that it
would be extremely welcome this evening--well or ill; but the Captain does
not offer it, and I do not quite like to ask for it. So I vouchsafe the
information that I'm feeling better now and think I shall be all right in
a very short while.
The Captain takes his departure; and my next caller is Dickinson, who is
still radiant over the idea of leaving to-morrow. I give him the note I
have written, which will enable him to get his clothes; and, when he tells
me that owing to the late fine weather the authorities have refused to
give him an overcoat, I add that item to his list.
When the time comes to go back to work I am feeling refreshed by my brief
nap and the hour's rest after dinner. So I fall into line as usual with
the company--I wonder what would happen if I stayed behind in my cell--and
we march down the yard as usual. When I arrive at the shop, Jack is at my
side in an instant.
"How are you feeling, Tom?" he inquires, anxiously.
I tell him that I am doing fairly well, and we set to work. In a very
short time, however, the feeling of nausea returns; and Jack then gives me
a remedy of his own which he says is often taken in the prison, where
indigestion is only too common. It consists of bicarbonate of soda in
vinegar and water. To show me that it is quite safe Jack takes a dose
himself, I follow suit, and the result is satisfactory in both cases. I am
also provided with plenty of hot water by my young Greek friend, who is
apparently ready to take any amount of trouble for me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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