conclusion that if all the officers
of that institution were as kind as Mr. Jones, it would not be as bad a
place as I had anticipated. I had no experience then that would justify
any other conclusion. Soon a side door of the office opened and in came
the deputy warden, Mr. John Higgins. Mr. H. is the sourest appearing man
I ever met in my life. At least, it seemed so to me on that day. He can
get more vinegar on the outside of his face than any other person in the
State of Kansas. He did not wait to be introduced to me. He never craves
an introduction to a criminal. As soon as he came into the room he got
a pole with which to measure me. Then, looking at me, in a harsh, gruff
voice he called out: "Stand up here." At first I did not arise. At the
second invitation, however, I stood up and was measured. My description
was taken by the clerk. In this office there is to be found a
description of all the criminals that ever entered the Kansas
penitentiary. I was asked if I was a married man, how many children
I had, and how much property I possessed. These questions were easily
answered. After the deputy warden had discharged his duty he retired. I
soon discovered that it was according to the rules of the prison for
the officers to talk in a harsh and abrupt manner to the prisoners. This
accounted for the way in which I was greeted by the deputy warden, who
is the disciplinarian of the prison. I may say, in passing, that all the
harsh manners of Mr. Higgins are simply borrowed for the occasion. Away
from the presence of prisoners, over whom he is to exert his influence,
there is not to be found a more pleasant and agreeable gentleman. In
came a second official, and, in the same gruff manner, said to me, "Come
along." I followed him out to the wash-house, where I took a bath. A
prisoner took my measure for a suit of clothes. After he had passed the
tape-line around me several times, he informed the officer that I
was the same size of John Robinson, who had been released from the
penitentiary the day before. "Shall I give him John Robinson's clothes?"
asked the convict. In the same gruff manner the officer said, "Yes,
bring on Robinson's old clothes." So I was furnished with a second-hand
suit! The shoes were second-hand. I am positive about this last
statement, judging by the aroma. After I had been in the penitentiary
some four months, I learned that John Robinson, whose clothes I had
secured, was a colored man. Being arraye