A. Treated! I'd treat 'em, bless 'em. Shady side of a deuced good bamboo's the place for them. Confound them! Why, if a fellow's sent to jail, stands to reason he's a scoundrel, and if he's a scoundrel treat him as such. It's an insult to an honest man to leave a rogue with a whole bone in his skin. My way's short. Thrash a rascal whenever you happen to be near him, and have a stick handy, which I take care generally to have; but a poker will do, or a crowbar, if you're in a hurry. The object of punishment is to prevent the offence being repeated, and dash my buttons but a fellow will think twice before he commits an offence that gets him under my hands a second time. Boys? Why, boys are worse than men. A man steals, perhaps, to feed his family; but what does a blessed boy steal for? To buy tarts and gin, and go to the penny theatre. I take it out of 'em, though. First I thrash 'em till there isn't a bit of their system that can be called strictly comfortable. Next, I starve 'em till they're as weak as rats. Then I give 'em work to do which they could hardly do if they were in the strongest health, and if they drop down at it I lick 'em till they get up again, and I refresh their minds with pails of cold water into the bargain. That's the right system. Ever kill them? Well, not often. Sometimes they die out of spite, for these boys are very malicious and revengeful, and will do anything to get an officer into trouble; but I find the magistrates baffle their malignity by taking no notice, and all goes on well. As for insubordination, by Jove, they don't often try it with me, but an iron collar, and a chain to hold it to the wall, a taste of the cat o' nine tails after Morning and Evening Service, a sound kick whenever a jailor happens to pass, and food placed before the rascal, but just out of his reach, for a few days, do wonders.
Q. 3496. If a prisoner were very rebellious, would you whip him?
Witness, (in a dreadful rage). Whip him, Sir! No, Sir! Whipping's too good for him, Sir! I'd—I'd—I'd—skin him alive, Sir—that's what I'd do with him, Sir.
[The witness, in his excitement, knocked over the short-hand writer with a violent back-hander, and rushed out.
The Weapons of the Slave.
At Wilkesbarre, in Pennsylvania, two slave-hunters under the Fugitive Slave Law did their best and worst to recapture a mulatto, named Rex. They placed handcuffs on him; but with these very handcuffs, the man—maddened by despair—beat down and marked his hunters. There is a moral in this, if America could understand it. Well will it be if emancipation be granted before slavery, with its very chains, shall knock down and mark the national slaveholders.
Gentle Reader!—If you have a remarkably strong constitution, you may read the following; but if not, we beg of you to pass it over:—
If a cigar makes a man ill, will a cheroot make a Man-illa?