I don't believe—as some good people say—
The Devil leads men on from day to day,
And takes them to a rock, and, first they know,
Pitches them off into some gulf below;
Or baits them into different traps, and then
Doesn't try at all to get them out again:
I think he'd like to keep them, safe and sound,
Doing his nasty work the whole year round;
And when a rogue fails up and comes to grief,
It hurts his brimstone-clothed but helpless chief!
These thoughts limped past my saddened mind to-day,
As through State's prison I pursued my way,
Led round by one who didn't seem to be knowing
What melancholy pictures he was showing!
Those walls and guards, that all escape opposed;
Those thick, iron doors—it thundered when they closed;
The cells—each one a closet full of gloom:
I'd just as soon sleep in a metal tomb![6]
The hard-faced men who worked away (no doubt,
For fear of hard-faced men that stood about),
Wearing that garb of stripes a free man loathes,
As if Law whipped them—even with their clothes;
The way they glance up at you from within
Their drooping eyelids, hard with grief or sin,
Wondering, as they gaze upon you so,
If you are not some one they used to know;
The ghosts you feel, that creep 'round, all the time,
Among these men who've shaken hands with crime;
The mournful hope that some are toiling here
Whose innocence in heaven is proved out clear:
All these things to my inmost spirit talked,
As through those regions dark I slowly walked;
And when the front door closed behind me—free—
The fresh air seemed like heaven itself to me!
I recollect once getting sick with pain,
When sitting near a sheriff, on the train,
Who had a young man with him—not of age—
Whom he was taking to this stone-bound cage.
The poor boy talked to him with drooping head,
And these are something like the words he said:
[6] And yet 'twas quite affecting, I declare,
How some had ornaments up, even there!
Not crime itself, or sad misfortune's smart
Can crush all sense of beauty from the heart!
[THE BOY CONVICT'S STORY.]
I'd rather sit here, Mr. Sheriff—up near to the end of the car;
We won't do so much advertising if we stay in the seat where we are.
That sweet little dude saw the bracelets that you on my wrists have bestowed,
And tells the new passengers promptly you're "taking me over the road."
I've had a well-patronized trial—the neighbors all know of my fall;
But when I get out among strangers I'm sensitive-like, after all.
For I was a lad of good prospects, some three or four summers ago—
There wasn't any boy in our township who made a more promising show!
I learned all of Solomon's proverbs, and took in their goodness and worth,
Till I felt like a virtue-hooped barrel, chock-full of the salt of the earth.
And this precious picnic of sorrow would likely enough have been saved,
If I had had less of a heart, sir, or home had contained what it craved.
For the time when a boy is in danger of walking a little bit wild,
Is when he's too young to be married—too old to be known as a child;
A bird in the lonely grass thickets, just out of the parent tree thrown,
Too large to be kept in the old nest—too small to have one of his own;
When, desolate 'mid his companions, his soul is a stake to be won;
'Tis then that the Devil stands ready to get a good chance to catch on!
Oh, yes! I'd a good enough home, sir, so far as the house was concerned;
My parents were first-class providers—I ate full as much as I earned.
My clothes were all built of good timber, and fit every day to be seen;
There wasn't any lock on the pantry—my bedroom was tidy and clean;
And taking the home up and down, sir, I'd more than an average part,
With one quite important exception—there wasn't any room for my heart.
The house couldn't have been any colder, with snow-drifts in every room!
The house needn't have been any darker to make a respectable tomb!
I used to stop short on the door-step, and brace up a minute or more,
And bid a good-bye to the sunshine, before I would open the door;
I used to feed daily on icebergs—take in all the freeze I could hold—
Then go out and warm in the sunshine, because my poor heart was so cold!