The privilege of seeing and conversing with friends, all things considered, is a great boon to prisoners and should never be denied them, especially those awaiting trial. Many a man naturally inclined to take a dark view of his trouble has been kept sane and sound from self-murder by the daily appearance of some loved one. The human heart when filled with fear and foreboding yearns for sympathy, encouragement and comfort. If these influences be withheld, the sufferings are so terrible as to pass human understanding. To an imprisoned man who is friendless, the coming of sympathy and kindly helpful interest is like a visit from God’s Holy Angels.
No wonder the prisoner cries out in the night in the agony of soul. No wonder he offers a plaint that is sad and sorrowful. The following lines from the pen of an unfortunate show the harshness of even our modern prison life:
“I know not whether the law be right,
Or whether the law be wrong;
All that we know who lie in jail
Is that the bars are strong;
And that each day is like a year—
A year whose days are wrong!
And this I know that every law,
That men have made for man,