From where we stood we could see hundreds of men in white suits moving about. Some seemed engaged in conversation, others in sportive games, and others in various employments.
“You do not mean to tell us that these men are prisoners,” said I.
“Yes; they have passed for years on earth a life of evil, yet all the beauty you behold here is the work of their hands. Idleness is the mother of crime. We teach them to become industrious, and surround them with beauty to develop their love of harmony.
“Ignorance and poverty are supposed to be the principal causes of evil on earth. But many fearful offences have been committed in high places from thwarted love and ambition. We have many of that character in this prison, but they are young. This is intended as a place to educate and restrain men who would return to earth and incite impressible beings to evil.
“The material of which this building is composed, though seemingly so fragile, is a non-conductor of thought, and while detained within it the inmates gradually free themselves from their old influences and disorderly desires.
“Cultivating the fruits of the earth calls into action only their most harmonious organs. A great mistake made by the legislators of earth is in employing criminals in stone-cutting, or placing them in gangs, as they do on the Continent, to work the rugged road.
“Employment of this kind awakens the very propensities which should be subdued. The composing, softening influences induced by tilling the soil would go far toward converting your evil men into good citizens.”
I was struck with the truthfulness of his suggestions, and put them down in my note-book for the benefit of humanity, and now hand them over to my readers for consideration.
After leaving this place we paid a visit to Edgar A. Poe, whose unfortunate life on earth you are all familiar with. His brilliant imagination we found as active as of old. He welcomed us enthusiastically, and eagerly led us into a small theatre which he had constructed and filled with most marvellous creations from his own fancy. He inherited from his father and mother, who were actors, a love for dramatic effect, and in theatrical impersonations he found some vent for his exuberant imagination.
“Stand here,” said he, placing us near the entrance; “I have something curious to show you.” He then suspended upon the stage a curtain, whose peculiarity was its pure, soft blue color, like an Italian sky.