he punishment should bear some proportion
to the offence. "You admit," I say to the P. K., "that these punishment
cells are the severest form of discipline that you have. Then why, in
Heaven's name, do you exhaust your severest punishment on trivial
offences? If you use the jail with its dark cells and bread and water for
whispering in the shop, what have you left when a man tries to murder his
keeper?"

In reply the P. K. makes the best showing he can, but in truth there is no
reply. One of the things that is most irritating about prison is the
number of questions that admit of no sensible explanation. It irresistibly
reminds one of the topsy-turvy world that Alice found in Wonderland; and
of the Hatter's famous conundrum, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" to
which there was no answer.

The P. K., finding himself driven from point to point in the argument,
takes refuge in the statement that complaint comes from the prison
department in Albany that he doesn't punish often or severely enough. This
seems very extraordinary. How in the world can the clerks in Albany judge
of the need of punishments in this prison, concerning the inner workings
of which they know absolutely nothing?

I argue, I implore, I threaten. The Doctor more gently and diplomatically
seconds my efforts. Finally the P. K. with an air of triumph brings out
his last and conclusive argument.

"There is a great deal in what you say, gentlemen, and I should like to
oblige you, Mr. Osborne, but you see this is Sunday; and you know we never
let 'em out of jail on Sunday."

The P. K. leans back in his chair, evidently feeling that he has used a
clincher. Then I rise in wrath. "Sunday!" I exclaim. "In Heaven's name,
P. K., what is Sunday? Isn't it the Lord's Day? Very well, then. Do you
mean to tell us that you actually think if you take a poor sick boy, with
an open wound in his ear, out of a close, dirty, vermin-filled, dark cell,
where he isn't allowed to wash, and has but three gills of water a day--do
you mean to say that to take that sick boy out of such a detestable hole
and put him back into the hospital, where the Doctor says he belongs--do
you really think that such an act of mercy would be displeasing to God? Do
you think God approves of your infernal jail? Do you think----"

I break off, simply because I haven't the strength to continue; anger and
disgust, on top of all the excitements of the last twenty-four hours,
bring me to my last oun