tuted. Within twenty years' time in several states
in America we have discarded the word "asylum" and have substituted the
word "hospital."

In Jeffersonville, Indiana, there is located a "Reformatory" which some
years ago was known as a penitentiary. The word "prison" had a
depressing effect, and "penitentiary" throws a theological shadow, and
so the words will have to go. As our ideas of the criminal change, we
change our vocabulary.

A few years ago we talked about asylums for the deaf and dumb--the word
"dumb" has now been stricken from every official document in every state
in the Union, because we have discovered, with the assistance of Gardner
G. Hubbard, that deaf people are not dumb, and not being defectives,
they certainly do not need an asylum. They need schools, however, and so
everywhere we have established schools for the deaf.

Deaf people are just as capable, are just as competent, just as well
able to earn an honest living as is the average man who can hear.

The "indeterminate sentence" is one of the wisest expedients ever
brought to bear in penology. And it is to this generation alone that the
honor of first using it must be given. The offender is sentenced for,
say from one to eight years. This means that if the prisoner behaves
himself, obeying the rules, showing a desire to be useful, he will be
paroled and given his freedom at the end of one year.

If he misbehaves and does not prove his fitness for freedom he will be
kept two or three years, and he may possibly have to serve the whole
eight years. "How long are you in for?" I asked a convict at
Jeffersonville, who was caring for the flowers in front of the walls.
"Me? Oh, I'm in for two years, with the privilege of fourteen," was the
man's answer, given with a grin.

The old plan of "short time," allowing two or three months off from
every year for good behavior was a move in the right direction, but the
indeterminate sentence will soon be the rule everywhere for first
offenders.

The indeterminate sentence throws upon the man himself the
responsibility for the length of his confinement and tends to relieve
prison life of its horror, by holding out hope. The man has the short
time constantly in mind, and usually is very careful not to do anything
to imperil it. Insurrection and an attempt to escape may mean that every
day of the whole long sentence will have to be served.

So even the dullest of minds and the most calloused realize that