moments we would leave for the penitentiary. This officer was a
gentleman, and did not seek to further humiliate me by placing irons
on my person. I have often thought of this act of kindness on the part
of this humane official. We took the train at Leavenworth, and in a
very few moments were at my future place of residence. Lansing, the
small village where the penitentiary is located, is about five miles
from the city of Leavenworth. The entrance to the prison is from the
west. Under the watchful care of the officer who had me in charge, I
passed under a stone archway, to the left of which was a small office,
where a guard was on duty during the day time. We were halted by this
officer, who inquired if we had any firearms. No one visiting the
penitentiary is allowed to carry fire-arms within the enclosure. The
marshal who had me in custody handed over a large navy revolver.
Between this archway and the western wall of the prison is a beautiful
lawn. The walks are lined with fragrant flowers; beautiful fountains
send aloft their silvery sprays. Passing up the roadway leading to the
entrance door, and looking about me upon the rich carpet of green, the
flowers and fountains, I came to the conclusion that the penitentiary
was not so bad a place as I had imagined. I changed my mind, however,
as soon as I had seen inside the walls.

The prison enclosure contains about ten acres of ground. This is
surrounded by a stone wall some fifteen feet high, and six feet thick
at the base. It is not more than four feet at the top. At each of the
four corners may be found a tower rising some ten feet above the wall.
A guard is on duty in each of these towers during the day. He carries
a double-barreled shotgun loaded with buckshot. In case a prisoner
tries to escape he is liable to get a dose of lead, provided the
officer on duty is a good marksman. The western wall is almost
entirely made of a large stone building with its two long wings. The