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tion, for he and his deputy, Mr. Delahunty were experienced prison men, and knew how to handle prisoners without it. Also the broom factory which was the only prison industry at that time got along nicely with its men. During Warden Smith's administration things changed for the worse. A Chicago concern of slavedrivers, operating shirt factories in eleven other prisons, started also a factory at Lancaster. Warden Smith, in order to make a record for himself, that he might become perpetual warden, was there to make a showing, cost what it might. His dream was to make the penitentiary self-supporting, and he talked "self-supporting," from early to late, but other than talking of it, it never became any more self-supporting than it ever was. The shirt factory was installed. From their various factories came a collection of discarded, delapidated (sic) machines, practically useless, but "good enough for Lancaster." Only five or six out of the eighty were good new machines. The factory

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was established in a poorly ventilated room, the men were crowded together like sardines, and the air was at all times permeated with the poisonous blue dust from the cloth from which the cheap shirts were made. It filled the mouths and the nostrils of the men, so that they could hardly breathe, and caused much sickness among those with weak lungs. Taking it as a whole, the shirt factory was a hell on earth.

A heavy task was set, and it was impossible for the boys to make it on those old machines. In justice to all concerned, credit must be given Mr. W. O. Peterson, the general manager, for being a humane man and a gentleman in every respect: but once a week there came from Chicago, the Vice-President, a Mr. Cohenstein, and when he came there was trouble. As soon as he walked in, the boys would say: "Well, here is the sheeny, there is going to be trouble here today." He usually came on Saturdays and had the boys put in the "hole "over

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Sunday. He would go straight to the task sheet, make up a list of those short in their work and have as many put in the hole as possible. It is indeed strange that some brutes are heralded as humane men, and some good, humane men heralded as brutes and wicked sinners. Never before, nor since, have there been so many men sent to the hole as during Mr. Smith's administration. But Uncle Tom, being an auctioneer, knew how to spread the salve, knew how to pose as a saint, and the old women "soulsavers" were his press agents. I do not mean to say that there were no good points to Warden Smith, on the other hand there were many, and as a purchasing agent he was an especially good one. For instance, the prison uses wood in large quantities, and no warden before or after him bought wood at such close figures as did Mr. Smith. There are several other articles that he bought at great bargains.

A memorandum was kept at the shirt

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factory of all who were short in their work, and as soon as one gang was turned out of the "hole" another was turned in, and there was always a waiting list. If this good, humane warden had remained there for another term, it would have been necessary to build an addition to this hole.

At noontime a guard comes along with two slices of bread and a cup of water, and that is your dinner. You are let down just long enough to eat this, and then you are strung up again. At night he is let down to partake of the same kind of a meal, and then sleeps on the stone floor, usually with his coat for a mattress, and his shoes for a pillow, for company, there are plenty of large roaches, mice and centipedes. After he has spent the required time in the hole, he is told to go and make a task or he will go back for a longer trip. He is permitted to go and take a bath and have a change of clothes, which is necessary on account of lack of sanitary arrangements in the hole. How