calm life's troubled sea.

In reconnoitring the island the next day, I found much to admire.
The great domes of the massive buildings towered aloft above the
encircling walls, like aerial sentinels warning us to lift our
thoughts to the blessings that come from on high. The great ships went
sailing by to lands beyond the sea; in front was a veritable bower of
paradise, apple and peach-trees fruited deep, green lawns, rippling
waters, fair as the garden of the Lord. Every prospect pleases and
naught but man is vile.

The signal was given from the Harlem shore for the institution's boat.
I jumped on board, and the strong arms of the uniformed boys of our
boat's crew propelled us across the river, where two policemen stood
on the pier guarding a girl about eighteen years of age. Quick as a
flash she pushed one of them into the water, his head stuck in the
mud, his legs kicking in the air; then she shrieked with laughter and
ran like a deer up the street. The other policeman and myself
jumped into an express wagon, seized the reins from the astonished,
protesting black driver, plied the whip to his horse and gave chase.

"What for you dune dar?" cried the darky.

"Shut up!" was the only reply, and away we went, Gilpin-like, with the
horse on the run. We headed off the girl, and after a rough-and-tumble
scrimmage threw her into the wagon, kicking, screaming, and scratching
like a wild-cat. We took her by main force to the girls' wing of the
prison and put her into a cell.

Scarcely was I seated at the table when the alarm-bell rang, and,