Tanner (nine years old).  Caught Tanner.  Caught up at window; up at window; asked what he did answered insolently—­jacket. there; said he wanted to feel the light—­jacket, and bread and water three days.

Tanner.  For repining—­chapel Tanner.  Refractory language—­
and gas stopped until content. forbidden chapel until
                                       reformation.

“Can I see such a thing as a prisoner who has attempted suicide?” inquired he, with lingering incredulity.

“Yes! there are three on this landing.  Come first to Joram, of whom Mr. Hawes writes that he made a sham attempt on his life in a fit of religious despondency—­Mr. Fry, that having been jacketed and put on bread and water for several days, he became depressed in spirits and made a real attempt on his life.  Ah! here is Mr. Fry, he is coming this way to tell you his first falsehood.  Hawes has been all this while persuading him to it.”

“Where is your journal, Mr. Fry?”

“Well, sir,” replied Fry, hanging his head, “I can’t show it you.  I lent it to a friend, now I remember, and he has taken it out of the jail; but,” added he with a sense of relief, “you can ask me any questions you like and I’ll answer them all one as my book.”

“Well, then, was Joram’s attempt at suicide a real or a feigned one?”

“Well, I should say it was a real one.  I found him insensible and he did not come to for best part of a quarter of an hour.”

“Open his cell.”

“Joram, I am here from the Secretary of State to ask you some questions.  Answer them truly and without fear.  Some months ago you made an attempt on your life.”

The prisoner shuddered and hung his head.

“Don’t be discouraged, Joram,” put in Mr. Eden kindly, “this gentleman is not a harsh judge, he will make allowances.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.”

“What made you attempt your life?” persisted Mr. Lacy.  “Was it from religious despondency?”

“That it was not.  What did I know about religion before his reverence here came to the jail?  No, sir, I was clammed to death.”

“Clammed?”

“Yes, sir, clammed and no mistake.”

“North-country word for starved,” explained Mr. Eden.

“No, sir, I was starved as well.  It was very cold weather, and they gave me nothing but a roll of bread no bigger than my fist once a day for the best part of a week.  So being starved with cold and clammed with hunger I knew I couldn’t live many hours more, and then the pain in my vitals was so dreadful, sir, I was obliged to cut it short.  Ay! ay! your reverence, I know it was very wicked—­but what was I to do?  If I hadn’t attempted my life I shouldn’t be alive now.  A poor fellow doesn’t know what to do in such a place as this.”

“Well,” said Mr. Lacy, “I promise you your food shall never be tampered with again.”