“Not unless he is refractory.”

“But prisoners are very seldom refractory.”

“Indeed! that is news to me.”

“I assure you, sir, there are no quieter set of men than prisoners generally.  They know there is nothing to be gained by resistance.”

“They are on their good behavior before you.  You don’t see through them, my good sir.  They are like madmen—­you would take them for lambs till they break out.  Do you know a prisoner here called Josephs?”

“Yes, sir, perfectly well.”

“Well, now, what is his character, may I ask?”

“HE IS A MILD, QUIET, DOCILE LAD.”

“Ha! ha! ha!  I thought so.  Prisoners are the refuse of the earth.  The governor knows them, and how to manage them.  A discretion must be allowed him, and I see no reason to interfere between him and refractory prisoners except when he invites us.”

“You are aware that several attempts at suicide have been made within the last few months?”

“Sham attempts, yes.”

“One was not sham, sir,” said Mr. Jones, gravely

“Oh, Jackson, you mean.  No, but he was a lunatic, and would have made away with himself anywhere—­Hawes is convinced of that.”

“Well, sir, I have told you the fact; I have remonstrated against the uncommon seventies practiced in this jail—­seventies unknown in Captain O’Connor’s day.”

“And I have received and answered your remonstrance, sir, and there that matter ought to end.”

This, and the haughty tone with which it was said, discouraged and nettled the chaplain; he turned red and said: 

“In that case, sir, I have no more to say.  I have discharged my conscience.”  With these words he was about to withdraw, but Mr. Williams stopped him.

“Mr. Jones, do you consider a clergyman justified in preaching at people?”

“Certainly not.”

“The pulpit surely ought not to be made a handle for personality.  It is not the way to make the pulpit itself respected.”

“I don’t understand you, sir.”

“Mr. Hawes is much hurt at a sermon you preached against him.”

“A sermon against him—­never!”

“I beg your pardon; you preached a whole sermon against swearing—­and he swears.”

“Oh—­yes!  I remember—­the Sunday before last.  I certainly did reprobate in my discourse the habit of swearing, but no personality to Hawes was intended.”

“No personality intended when you know he swears!”

“Yes, but the warders swear, too.  Why should Mr. Hawes take it all to himself?”

“Oh! if the turnkeys swear, then it was not so strictly personal.”

“To be sure,” put in Mr. Jones inadvertently, “I believe they learned it of the governor.”

“There you see!  Well, and even if they did not, why preach against the turnkeys? why preach at any individuals or upon passing events at all?  I can remember the time no clergyman throughout the length and breadth of the land noticed passing events from the pulpit.”