the twin hells(两个地狱)-第18章
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while in prison。 After awhile his religion got the better of him； he could
not control his emotions。 Often during the chapel services； when the
convicts were singing their Christian songs； overcome by his feelings；
Frank would weep like a child。 Time passed。 It was a bright Sabbath
morning。 The prisoners were marching out of the cell houses to the chapel；
to attend divine service。 All nature seemed to be rejoicing。 Frank could not
longer restrain himself。 The glowing sunshine has much to do with
causing a man's religion to boil over。 All of a sudden； clapping his hands；
Frank shouted at the top of his voice； 〃Glory to God in the highest I peace
on earth； good will to men！〃 This was too much for the discipline of the
prison。 Convicts are expected to keep quiet。 A couple of officers seized
him and led him back into the cell house； where he was placed in a cell of
the insane ward and was called a religious crank。 He remained in this cell
for the following eighteen months。 He told me afterward these were the
happiest months of his life。 He would read his Bible； sing； pray； and exhort
the officers to be religious。 The deputy warden would often tell him that
when he could control his religion enough to keep quiet he should be
taken out of the insane ward and sent to work again。 When eighteen
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months had passed he concluded he could keep quiet； and so informed the
deputy warden。 He was immediately released from his place of
confinement and went to work。 While at work he was honest and quiet。
His only trouble was； too much religion！ Months went by。 His wife came
to see him frequently。 These visits were enjoyable affairs to them。 On a
certain Friday his wife was to visit him。 I met him the day before； and he
was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing his wife the next day。 She came。
They had a joyful time。 Little did either think they should see each other in
this life no more。 When the hour of her departure came they separated not
to meet again until in the world of perpetual sunshine。 The next day this
poor convict was taken with the prison fever； and in one short week he
was a corpse。 He died trusting in his Saviour。 The chaplain； speaking of
this man's death； said if officers or convicts at death go from the Kansas
penitentiary to heaven； then Frank Rhodes was among the saved； he was a
true Christian man。 After death his body was sent to his former home；
Holton； where it was buried。
The following is my experience with a poor friendless colored boy
who had a six years' sentence for burglary。 I took the prison fever and was
sent to the hospital。 This colored convict was detailed as my nurse。 He had
been sick； but was then convalescent。 He was very kind to me； because of
this kindness and good care I began to like him。 He seemed anxious to
make me comfortable。 〃Be kind to the sick and you will win their
friendship。〃 I was quite sick for two weeks； but began to recover slowly。
About this time my nurse suffered a relapse。 He grew worse and worse。
The doctor gave him up。 〃Bob must die；〃 he said to the head nurse one day
in my hearing。 A day or two after this； Bob； for that was the sick prisoner's
name； sent for me to come to his couch。 I sat down on the edge of his bed
and asked him what he wanted。 He said： 〃I am going to die； and want a
friend。 In all this wide world；〃 continued he； 〃there is not a single human
being that I can look upon as my friend。〃 He then told me how he had lost
his father and mother when a mere child； had drifted out into the world an
orphan boy； got into bad company； into crime and into prison。 As I sat
there looking into the face of that little darkey； I thought how sad his lot
must be； and my sympathies were aroused。 I said； 〃Bob； is there anything I
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can do for you？ I am your friend； and will do all I can to aid you。〃 I spoke
words of encouragement； and tried to cheer him up by saying that I
thought he would not die。 In this I used a little deceit； but it was to assuage
his grief。 I really thought he would die very soon。 Then he told me what he
wanted。 He said； 〃I am going to die； my angel mother came to my bedside
last night； I saw her as plainly as I see you now。 She said she was coming
soon to take me out of prison and out of this world of sorrow。 Yes； I am
going to die； but I am afraid to cross the dark river。 When I am dying I
want you to sit by my bedside； take hold of my hand and go with me down
the vale of death as far as possible。 It will do me so much good。 Will you
do this for me？ It is the only favor I ask。〃 I told him I would only be too
glad to do so if it would aid him in the moment when life shrinks from the
shadow of death； but told him I thought he would not dieanother little fib
on my part。 However； that did no harm； for I failed to convince him he
would live。 About 1 o'clock A。 M。 a couple of nights after this； one of the
watchers came to my cot and said Bob wanted to see me immediately。 I
felt his time had come。 Hastily dressing； I went to his bedside。 I found him
dying。 I sat down by his side and took his hand in mine。 I was going with
him to the dark river。 He pressed my hand and a smile of satisfaction
passed over his countenance。 He said； 〃You are so kind。〃 I spoke words of
hope and encouragement suitable to the time and occasion。 I sat thus for
some little time； his limbs grew cold； his eyes became glassy； the death
dew was dampening his brow。 It was evident he would soon breathe his
last。 Poor； helpless； friendless negro！ What was your life's mission？ Many
similar pious thoughts flitted through my mind。 Without a friend！ Among
all the millions of earth he could not call one by the endearing name of
friend！ Sad； sad thought！ After I had remained there some time； expecting
every breath to be his last； what was my astonishment to discover his
hands and limbs growing warmer。 The crisis of his disease was passed。 No
dark river this time！ Soon his 〃glassy〃 eyes were closed； and in a few
moments he began to snore！ Disappointed； I dropped that black 〃paw；〃 and
went back to my cot。 That little darkey is still alive。 He often asked me
after that if I wanted to take another trip down to 〃de da'k ribbah！〃
The prisoners who die in the penitentiary are buried in the graveyard
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of the institution； unless they have friends who will pay for the removal of
the body。 Just outside the prison walls is the cemetery。 Its location is a
walnut grove in a deep ravine。 The first graves were dug near the eastern
side of the cemetery and as near to each other as possible。 As fast as this
space is filled with graves it is covered over many feet deep with the slate
and dirt taken from the coal mines； a few yards distant。 Beneath this
rubbish will the prisoners sleep until the trump shall sound and the dead
arise。 Prisoners dying are dressed in a neat suit of black clothes； if the
body is to be forwarded to the friends； otherwise； the burial suit consists of
a cot
