"I'm sorry! indeed I am!" "Sorry for what,--that you made disturbance, or that I found you out?" "For both. Indeed I am; I knew better--I knew the rules; I've been here before, and it'll go hard with me." "You thought I was a stranger and wouldn't know them, did you?" "Yes, ma'am; but I'm sorry." "I'm sorry for you, Kate, that you should be so ill-disposed as to make a noise, purposely to disturb me; and that you should be so mean as to try to impose upon a stranger. In future it will be well for you to know who you are playing off on before you begin. Now, Kate Connolly, remember--if ever I catch you in another such a trick, I shall have you punished!" "And you won't now? I thank you! I never will trouble you so again!" I never had occasion to reprove her afterwards for any bad conduct while she was in the prison. She thought it was through my kindness that she escaped punishment. I had been reading the "Rules and Regulations," which directed me to "admonish" once; and then, report for punishment. By following those Rules, I had silenced the noise, and restored order without resorting to punishment. I had also secured the future good behavior of the girl. When one was detected, the others became quiet. There are good and noble qualities still existing in those prisoners, if the right management only be applied to rouse, and bring them into action. The rule to admonish was a wise one, and was adopted to that end. That the officers did not follow out the rule was wherein the fault lay. And that they overlooked it, or failed to obey it, caused untold suffering to the prisoners. No instance came under my observation where the offense was repeated, after a prisoner had been admonished. After quiet was restored, I sat down to think, and rest. I was tired of the ceaseless surveillance, the turning of keys, the grating of bars, the driving of the prisoners at their tasks, the compelling to pleasant manners while under such severe exactions of toil. I sat thinking it over and asking myself if it would be possible for me, driven, urged to work with no alternative but the solitary cell, and the bread and water diet, with no motive but fear of punishment, to be gentle and patient. The exhausted flesh and the wearied spirit would express their agony in some form of complaint. Human nature might restrain its indignation at such a dreary lot from breaking forth, in fear of a greater punishment. The prisoner might work on in silence till she fell, and was carried to the Hospital. I was told that it had been so, and I could not doubt it. My orders verified the statement. I was to keep them at work. If they complained they were to see the Doctor, and he was to decide whether they were unfit for labor. In that case they were to go into the Hospital. I had asked, "Shall their whole task be exacted of them?" "Yes,--if you listen to their complaints, they will all play sick, and we shall get no work done."