The earnest man going his rounds of duty saw his pitiable state and forbade relief till the number of hours he had appointed for his punishment should be completed.  Discipline before all!

There was one man in the jail, just one, who could no longer view this barbarity unmoved.  His heart had been touched and his understanding wakened, and he saw these prodigies of cruelty in their true light.  But he was afraid of Hawes, and unfortunately the others by an instinct felt their comrade was no longer one of them and watched him closely.  But his intelligence was awakened with his humanity.  After much thought he hit upon this; he took the works out of his watch—­an old hunting watch—­and stolling into the yard, dipped the case into the bucket, then closed it; and soon after getting close to Carter, and between him and Fry, he affected to examine the prisoner’s collar, and then hastily gave him a watchful of cold water.  Carter sucked it with frightful avidity, and small as the draught was no mortal can say what consequences were averted by it.

Evans was dreadfully out of spirits.  His ally lay dying and his enemy triumphed.  He looked to be turned out of the jail at the next meeting of magistrates.  But when he had given the idiot his watch to drink out of an unwonted warmth and courage seemed to come into his heart.

This touch of humanity coming suddenly among the most hellish of all fiends—­men of system—­was like the little candle in a window that throws its beams so far when we are bewildered in a murky night.  For the place was now a moral coal-hole.  The dungeons at Rome that lie under the wing of Roderick Borgia’s successors are not a more awful remnant of antiquity or a fouler blot on the age, on the law, on the land, and on human nature.

A thick, dark pall of silence and woe hung over its huge walls.  If a voice was heard above a whisper it was sure to be either a cry of anguish or a fierce command to inflict anguish.  Two or three were crucified every day; the rest expected crucifixion from morning till night.  No man felt safe an hour; no man had the means of averting punishment; all were at the mercy of a tyrant.  Threats frightful, fierce and mysterious hung like weights over every soul and body.  Whenever a prisoner met an officer he cowered and hurried crouching by like a dog passing a man with a whip in his hand; and as he passed he trembled at the thunder of his own footsteps, and wished to Heaven they would not draw so much attention to him by ringing so clear through that huge silent tomb.  When an officer met the governor he tried to slip by with a hurried salute lest he should be stopped, abused and sworn at.

The earnest man fell hardest upon the young; boys and children were favorite victims; but his favorites of all were poor Robinson and little Josephs.  These were at the head of the long list he crucified, he parched, he famished, he robbed of prayer, of light, of rest and hope.  He disciplined the sick; he closed the infirmary again.  That large room, furnished with comforts, nurses and air, was an inconsistency.