on a wet day in winter when the steam is turned on, I hate to
think.

The hash is not so good as yesterday's porridge. Moreover it is rendered
distinctly less appetizing by the amount of bone and gristle which I find
chopped up in it. I hope I am not unduly fastidious in such matters, and
an occasional inedible morsel I should not criticize; but an average of
two or three pieces of bone and gristle to a mouthful seems to me
excessive.

Back in my cell I write my promised letter on behalf of Dickinson; but the
minutes before shop time pass so quickly that when the lever is pressed
down I am not ready, and so have to make a grab for my coat and cap and
fall in toward the end of the line on the gallery. During the halt at the
door, however, I regain my place--third in line on the left. The rain has
come, but, fortunately, it is little more than a mist. It gives me a
chance, however, to venture a mild pleasantry. When the Captain is out of
hearing I whisper, with as English an accent as possible, "Oh, dear me!
Where did I leave my umber-rella?" a remark which causes unseemly snickers
from those within hearing. The joke is quite in character, as those I hear
turn largely on the various hardships and privations of prison life;
although the one huge, massive, gigantic joke, which is always fresh and
pointed, is the current rate of payment for a prisoner's work--one cent
and a half a day. Before this monumental and gorgeous piece of humor all
other jokes seem flat and pointless.

On the march down the yard to the shop we pass the Warden. He lets us go
by without any sign of recognition, which gives me another chance to get a
laugh from my comrades. I whisper, "So that is the way my old friends
treat me!" Apparently the prisoners can appreciate a joke better than an
official; I am still a bit resentful at the way that excessively bored
Bertillon clerk received my attempt at humor.

Arrived at the shop I go directly to my bench, and turning around am
greeted by the cheery face of my partner. He comes up behind me, for he
marches somewhere in the rear. "Well, Brown, how did you get by last
night?"

"Better, thank you, Jack!"

"Well, of course you will find it hard for the first week or two, but
after that you will be O. K." By which it will be seen that my partner
likes a joke as well as the next man. Then as we hang up our caps and
coats and get ready for work he continues, "A new man always does find it
hard to sleep whe