And the Warder is Despair." ----

While you go through the prison you see the things
mentioned--electric lights, clean halls, bathing apparatus, and
the rest. But you STUDY the human beings working at their
fixed tasks, or moving about in their dismal, heavy suits of
stripes.

Just as many kinds of faces as you see in a city street you see
in that prison--but there you see more than elsewhere the
failures, the human weeds.

But at least there is a striving to make things better. Society
no longer willingly tortures its failures. It controls,
punishes, but does not hate them. There are no beatings, no
tortures, no close-cropped heads, even, for the convict may grow
his hair as he chooses.

Every man who knows no trade is taught one. There is a feeling
of moral responsibility to the criminal, and a desire at least to
make him NO WORSE.

The prisoners are divided into two classes: those whose faces
and skulls tell of evil birth and predestined failure, and those
who are simply like others--average men, victims of chance, of
temptation, of ability ill-balanced, of ignorance, of drink, or
even of accident.

In one great room the convicts are weaving--working at hand
looms. The work is desperately hard. Both hands and both feet