of the stops and flee for his liberty? Why pay
the heavy toll which society demanded? He could soon be in another
state where, under another name, he could begin life anew. But
the promise given to Warden Melick, which was the only link that
held him on the return journey, proved stronger than all the
chains in the world. The twilight found him again behind those
gray stone walls of Lancaster that surround hundreds of other
aching hearts.
This man was, to all appearances, an innocent man, one of the
several that serve at Lancaster for a crime committed by somebody
else. He afterwards became the warden's coachman, and later on
worked around my office. It was while filling these positions
of trust that he managed to prove his innocence and was sent
home.
I recall a similar case. The superintendent of the state hospital
at Kearney wired Warden Melick that their chef had been taken
ill, and asked him for the loan of one
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for a few weeks. The warden sent for a young man
working in the guard's kitchen, and asked him if he would like
to make the trip. He was much surprised, and gave the warden
his word of honor that he would do right. The following day his
mother came to visit him, and she was also much surprised. She
thanked Warden Melick, and said that she did not know how to
repay him. "Madam," said the warden, "you can
repay me by writing your son a letter telling him to be true
to his word." She did, but it was not necessary, for about
a week later this young man, unannounced, walked into the Warden's
office. There was a happy look on his face. He told the warden
that the chef had returned to his post and his work gave out,
therefore he came back. The warden shook hands with him and said: "You
have acted like a man." He soon became the warden's chef
and admitted to parole. Now and then I get a letter from him.
He is in South Omaha, is saving his
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