The next two cells they went to, the prisoners assured Mr. Lacy that they were treated like Mr. Hawes's children.
“Well, sir!” said Lacy, with evident satisfaction, “what do you say to that?”
“I say—use your eyes.” And he wheeled the last prisoner to the light. “Look at this hollow eye and faded cheek; look at this trembling frame and feel this halting pulse. Here is a poor wretch crushed and quelled by cruelty till scarce a vestige of man is left. Look at him! here is an object to pretend to you that he has been kindly used. Poor wretch, his face gives the lie to his tongue, and my life on it his body confirms his face. Strip, my lad.”
Mr. Hawes interposed, and said it was cruel to make a prisoner strip to gratify curiosity. Mr. Eden laughed. “Come, strip,” said he; “the gentleman is waiting.” The prisoner reluctantly took off his coat, waistcoat and shirt, and displayed an emaciated person and several large livid stripes on his back. Mr. Lacy looked grave.
“Now, Mr. Lacy, you see the real reason why this humane gentleman did not like the prisoner to strip. Come to another. Before we go in to this one let me ask you one question: Do you think they will ever tell you the truth while Mr. Hawes's eye is on them?”
“Hum! they certainly seem to stand in awe of Mr. Hawes.”
Hawes. “But, sir! you see how bitter the chaplain is against me. Where he is I ought to be if I am to have fair play.”
“Certainly, Mr. Hawes, certainly! that is but fair.”
Mr. Eden. “What are you in for?”
Prisoner. “Taking a gentleman's wipe, gentlemen.”