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would rove toward a well turned ankle clad in heliotrope hose. No matter how much she read about the prodigal, his eyes would drift toward the ankle. And was he to blame? Man after all is but a weak animal, and those poor penned-up boys are perhaps a little weaker than their brothers on the outside. This boy had just arrived from a county jail, where he had lain for weeks and had never seen or talked with a woman, and while she was old enough to be his mother, he, like the sailor in mid-ocean to whom any port looks good in a storm, became much interested in her, not because she was reading the Bible to him, not because she was trying to save his soul, but because she was a woman or as I should rather say--a female. And as he laid upon his prison bed that afternoon, rolling to and fro, did he think of the prodigal and the fatted calf? No, another calf was on his mind, a pretty one clad in heliotrope. Lord, lead us not into temptation! And you women from Lincoln, I mean you

 
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curosity (sic) seekers, you who have forty churches down town, but nevertheless have to come to the prison church, don't put on your slit gowns. Make as little display of hose and ankles as possible. Have a little mercy on those poor penned-up creatures out there. I hope you see the point. The thoughts that these female "reformers" and these female curosity (sic) (sic) seekers have caused to come to the minds of the men out there have caused much misery and suffering, especially to those with insufficient will power to control their feelings, and made them into physical and mental wrecks. So, if you, my reader, when standing upon the corner of Tenth and 0 streets should notice a thin and haggard looking man, a discharged prisoner, alight from the "penitentiary" car, do not blame his appearance to being underfed or abused by the officials, for there is another reason.

Gradually as the power of this gang increased the prison discipline decreased and the penitentiary became the laughing stock

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of experienced prison men. Criminals throughout the country referred to it as the "Playhouse", the "Haven of Rest", or the "Kindergarten." Warden Smith was fond of these "reformers", for above all things he is a shrewd politician and in his campaign for 'the governorship or for perpetual warden, these women became very useful auxiliaries. For a fact, they circulated a petition to the legislators to retain him, for well did they know that if Mr. Delahunty was appointed warden there would be no more dinners at the state's expense.

Far more dangerous, far more poisonous than the sting of the rattler, is the sting of the evil tongues; for while the sting of the snake is usually overcome or cured, that of evil tongues may last a lifetime, may follow a person to his grave. To these tattlers and meddlers, a man's integrity or a woman's honor amounts to very little, just so that they gain their point. Walt Mason says:

 
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"If you lie about your neighbors,
Then the wages of your labors,
Will be deathless scorn and hate.
Telling stories not demanded;
Doing actions underhanded,
Finally will see you landed
Where pariahs congregate."

And I hope that Walt is right. Speaking about that place reminds me of a show I saw at the "Majestic" in Chicago a few years ago, entitled "The Devil and Tom Walker." That show caused me to stop, ponder and reflect. It set me to studying more than if all the preachers in our city would preach to me for years to come. Before you is a subterranean grotto, representing hades, fire and sulphur sparks flying in all directions. A new arrival comes sliding down a shute. It is a negro, Mr. Tom Walker, from Memphis, Tennessee. Tom is thirsty and grabs a schooner, but instead of beer out comes burning flames. "Tom," says the devil, "I am going down on earth, and I am going to put you in charge while I am gone." "Before you go, Mr. Devil,