a distinct feeling of pride in the good looks
and clean-cut appearance of our master. I know that if I were serving
under that flannel-shirted and collarless officer I should have very
little respect for myself and none for him. I don't know who he is, and he
may be one of the kindest and best tempered of men; but I would be willing
to wager that the prisoners under his charge are difficult to handle. It
does not speak well for the general discipline of the prison that such a
breach of official decorum should be permitted. The officer's cap on top
of the unshaven face and the flannel shirt looks ridiculously out of
place.

Soon after our return to the cells comes Landry, having understood
perfectly my first attempt at convict conversation. I give him my message
and he engages to see that it is delivered. As we are talking, another of
the trusties passes by; and, before I can see who it is, a large sheet of
paper is thrust under the door and the man is gone. I turn the paper over
and on the other side is a most elaborate pencil sketch of myself, copied
with extraordinary pains, apparently from some newspaper cut, and with it
a slip of paper with this inscription: "Auburn Prison, September 30, 1913.
To Hon. Thomas M. Osborne, Auburn, N. Y. As a memento of the days spent in
our midst and sacrificed in our behalf. Auburn No. 31----."

Arrived at the basket-shop and soon after Jack and I have started working,
I have a bad attack of nausea. I was very thirsty at breakfast time and
inadvertently drank some bootleg. That must be the reason. No human
stomach, without practice, can stand that stuff. I keep on working, hoping
the feeling will wear off, but it does not. Then I walk up and down
energetically while we are waiting for a new stock of rattan, but that
has no better effect. Jack is much concerned and insists upon appealing to
the Captain, who promptly sends to the hospital for medicine. In the
meantime I go to the large door in the rear of the shop with a hope of
relief from the cause of disturbance, but am only partially successful. A
young prisoner who is washing windows asks me if I would not like some hot
water. Indeed I would, it is the very thing I want. So he goes and gets
it. He is a good-looking lad, a Greek, with the appealing eyes I have
noticed in some of the Italian prisoners. I drink large quantities of hot
water and rest awhile before continuing my work. Jack and all the other
men about me are most kind an