Prisoner, A, and His Liberty—See [Dead Tho Alive].
PRISONERS, EMPLOYMENT FOR
The Maryland Prisoners’ Aid Association have established a woodyard and novelty manufacturing shop at No. 311 North Street, Baltimore, where steady employment is furnished those desiring to start anew after liberation from penal institutions. Like all work of this kind, the new plant is conducted with the idea of defraying its own expense, and not to realize profits.
All the machinery in the woodyard, which, in full operation, employs twenty men, is driven by electricity. The principal product is kindling, manufactured from cordwood shipped from Anne Arundel County. The wood is unloaded from cars alongside the sawmill, where it is cut, split and loaded on wagons ready for delivery.
An important feature of the plant is the shop on the second floor, where light cabinet articles of all descriptions are manufactured. Many of the men going to the Aid Society for help in obtaining employment are of a mechanical turn, and these are given positions in the shop. In charge of a skilled cabinet-maker and woodworker, John McVauley, tables, chairs, magazine racks, umbrella-stands, settees, stools, upholstered furniture and miscellaneous household articles are turned out for which the men are paid wages about equal to the rates paid by manufacturing plants.—Baltimore Sun.
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PRIVACY, LACK OF
Korean homes are in a sense open to all the world. Any one who pleases may try the door, push it open, and come in. He needs no first acquaintance, and no introduction. An ordinary Korean guest-room is free to all the world. On the other hand, the inner quarters are separate, and for a male traveler to venture there would be a breach of the most sacred law of society. Into this outer room come gentlemen of leisure, tramps, fortune-tellers, Buddhist priests, all mankind, in fact. Here is located the high seat of the master. As you live in this guest-room, you feel the fearful lack of privacy. You are as tho encamped on the open highway, under the gaze of all men. If you write a letter, the question is, to whom are you writing it. “Why do you write thus and thus? What reference is here? Who? When?” These are the questions that are asked by those who look over your shoulder, without any breach of proper form or infraction of the eternal law that governs things.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
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PRIVATION, COMPARATIVE