informed us that "pecce ecce" meant nothing more nor less than
"belly-ache." The doctor administered the proper remedy for this
troublesome disease, and the Indian was sent back to the mines. He had
not dug coal more than an hour when he had another attack, and began his
crying, and was sent to the top. He kept this up until he wore out the
patience of the officers, and they finally decided to take him out of
the mines altogether and give him work at the surface. Even here, every
few minutes the Indian would have an attack of "pecce ecce," and would
start for the hospital. At last, the chaplain, taking pity on the poor
outcast, wrote to President Cleveland, and putting the case in a very
strong light, was successful in securing a pardon for the Indian. That
"cheeky" red youth was no fool. He belly-ached himself out of that
penitentiary. I trust I may never have to spend any more of my time in
prison. If I do, I think about the first day I will get a dose of "pecce
ecce," and keep it up, and see if I can't get a pardon.

MALE PRISONERS

Ed. Stanfield.--The history of this prisoner is as follows: He was about
nineteen years of age when he entered the prison, which was some five
years ago. His people reside in South Bend, Indiana. His father, prior
to his death, was a prominent judge. The family was wealthy, influential
and highly respected. It consisted of the parents and two sons. Ed.
proved to be the black lamb of the flock. At the early age of nine
years, being sent away to school, he bade all good-bye one day and
followed in the wake of a circus show which was holding forth in the
town where he was attending school, He was not heard of anymore for
several years. His parents spent vast sums of money attempting to
ascertain his whereabouts. They finally heard of him in the following
accidental manner: His father, Judge Stanfield, had been out in Nebraska
looking after some land he had recently purchased, and, on his return
home, sitting in the cars, purchased a newspaper of the newsboy as he
came around. Looking over the paper he caught the name of his prodigal
son. There, before him, was the account of his son who, having knocked
down a prosecuting attorney in broad daylight with a coupling pin, with
the intention of robbery, had been tried, convicted and sentenced to the
penitentiary for ten years, and was on that day safely lodged behind the
walls. The sad father, on reaching home, dispatched his elder son to the