It is situated in a remote corner, inside the prison walls, and is accessible only through the passage-way underneath the central building seen in the illustration on next page. It is built two stories high around a hollow cemented square, with windows looking into the same. It affords no view, excepting barely the tops of the hills, the sky, and the matron's house. Truly these poor women are shut in. Not so with the men, as will be seen in the same picture. It shows a portion of the beautiful garden into which many a cell door opens. One corner of these quarters may be seen on the right, the women's being inside of the building near the tree on the left. Frequently have I, attended by the matron, Mrs. G. G. Smith, a very warm friend of mine, come through that iron gateway in the wall, always to be greeted with smiles and warm words, of welcome by my less fortunate sisters. These meetings were, without doubt, profitable to all concerned. I enjoyed their orchestra (some are very musical), and they enjoyed the songs to my autoharp accompaniment.
As I have previously mentioned, the present matron, after much intercession and with the warden's aid, succeeded, a few months following her accession to the matronal office, in prevailing upon the board of prison directors to grant the women prisoners a monthly walk on God's beautiful green hills. In order to prove their appreciation of her kindness, the women banded together to give her an entertainment on the first anniversary of her matronship. To this day they believe the affair to have been a complete surprise, though she was aware of their preparations from the beginning.
The day broke warm and beautiful. Immediately after dinner Matron Smith was escorted to a seat of honor in the yard and the program was opened by an excellent address of welcome (of which I have an exact copy) by E——, whose offense was—well, we won't say what nor how long her term of imprisonment. She is a bright young woman, as the following well-worded and touching speech amply verifies:
Trusting in your graciousness, and with your approval, we, the inmates of the female department of this institution, have taken the liberty of arranging a program for an entertainment to be given in the honor of, and to celebrate this, your official natal day.
Just a year ago today you came to us. To you it means just the passing of time in a sphere of action hitherto unknown to you; but to us a year filled with memories of all things good—easier times, warmer clothing, and privileges until then unknown.
We have enjoyed, through your kind intercession, and the courtesy of our noble Warden, the delight of walking forth into the outer world, even if only for a short time; of seeing once more green fields and hills clothed in nature's gown of green and flowers; of viewing the waters of the bay and inhaling the salt sea air; and of being entertained in your own sweet way, in your own sweet home. At last, but not least, to have the intense satisfaction of gazing at the outside of our prison wall, anticipating the time when we will always be outside of that old wall. And in our daily life together, you, in the discharge of your duties, have been a kind and gentle matron, listening always with patience to our tales of woe. And through all the past year you have been to us our guide, friend, and comrade. We one and all pray that life will give you health, happiness, and prosperity, and all of heaven's good gifts.
Then followed an enjoyable program.
Who could not be touched by such tender sentiment from those whom the world at large regard as well-nigh, if not quite, hopeless cases. Because of this and also because of the receipt of a recent letter (Sept. 14, 1911), I humbly and heartily thank God that I am able to prove that kindness, coupled with good judgment, is very effectual.
Enclosed in this lengthy, newsy letter from the matron are some excellent up-to-date photos of the San Quentin prison, two of which you will find between these covers, and also a clipping from one of San Francisco's daily papers, as follows: