or eight feet high.  Between this cage and the wall is a space of eighteen inches in width.  It has a narrow door, and an opening through which the food is passed to the prisoners, and a conduit leading out of it.  Of course it soon becomes foul, and in warm weather somewhat warm.  A recent prisoner, who wanted more ventilation than the State allowed him, found some means, by a loose plank, I think, to batter a hole in the outer wall opposite the window in the cage, and this ragged opening, seeming to the jailer a good sanitary arrangement, remains.  Two murderers occupied this apartment at the time of our visit.  During the recent session of court, ten men had been confined in this narrow space, without room enough for them to lie down together.  The cage in the room above, a little larger, had for tenant a person who was jailed for some misunderstanding about an account, and who was probably innocent —­from the jailer’s statement.  This box is a wretched residence, month after month, while awaiting trial.

We learned on inquiry that it is practically impossible to get a jury to convict of murder in this region, and that these admitted felons would undoubtedly escape.  We even heard that juries were purchasable here, and that a man’s success in court depended upon the length of his purse.  This is such an unheard-of thing that we refused to credit it.  When the Friend attempted to arouse the indignation of the Professor about the barbarity of this jail, the latter defended it on the ground that as confinement was the only punishment that murderers were likely to receive in this region, it was well to make their detention disagreeable to them.  But the Friend did not like this wild-beast cage for men, and could only exclaim,

“Oh, murder! what crimes are done in thy name.”

If the comrades wished an adventure, they had a small one, more interesting to them than to the public, the morning they left Bakersville to ride to Burnsville, which sets itself up as the capital of Yancey.  The way for the first three miles lay down a small creek and in a valley fairly settled, the houses, a store, and a grist-mill giving evidence of the new enterprise of the region.  When Toe River was reached, there was a choice of routes.  We might ford the Toe at that point, where the river was wide, but shallow, and the crossing safe, and climb over the mountain by a rough but sightly road, or descend the stream by a better road and ford the river at a place rather dangerous to those unfamiliar with it.  The danger attracted us, but we promptly chose the hill road on account of the views, for we were weary of the limited valley prospects.