The Twin Hells - Chapters II-III



CHAPTER II. THE COAL MINES

I was next taken to the coal mines. These mines are located just outside 
of the prison enclosure, and are surrounded by high stone walls and stone 
buildings, which, by their location, take the place of walls. The coal 
yards are separated from the prison campus by a partition wall, which 
constitutes the south wall of the coal department and the north wall of 
the prison. 

Passing from one of these departments to the other, through a large 
gateway, the gate being kept by a convict, an old man who murdered his 
son, and who has a life sentence. Reader, how would you like to spend your 
entire life, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after 
year, in the monotonous employment of opening and closing a large gate? 
When my escort and myself reached the mines, I was placed in charge of Mr. 
Dodds, the official in control of the mines at the surface. Mr. Dodds is a 
very competent officer, and has been on duty at that place more than 
twenty years. From this officer I received a mining cap. This piece of 
head-wear was turban-shaped, striped, of course, with a leather frontlet, 
on which was fastened the mining lamp. This lamp, in shape, resembled an 
ordinary tea-pot, only it was much smaller. In place of the handle was a 
hook, which fastened to the leather frontlet. The bowl of the lamp 
contained the oil; a wick passes up through the spout, at the end of which 
is the light. The miner carrying his lamp in this position has it out of 
his way. With the cap on my head and lamp lighted, I stood on the verge of 
a ten by twelve hole in the earth, that was almost eight hundred feet 
deep. We think that a well one hundred feet deep is quite a distance down 
into the ground, but here was a hole eight times deeper. In the mining 
vernacular this hole is termed a shaft--the term that will be employed in 
speaking of it hereafter. There are two of these shafts, about one hundred 
yards apart. Each shaft is divided by a wooden partition which descends 
from the top to the bottom. Two elevators, or cages, as they are called, 
ascend and descend along the shaft. While one cage is coming up the other 
is going down. They derive their motor power from two large engines, one 
for each shaft. The officer in charge inquired, before making my descent 
into the mines, if I ever fainted. "Never," was my reply. Persons 
sometimes faint in going down this shaft. "Step into the cage," was the 
order given. I obeyed, and, reaching up, took hold of some iron bars that 
went across the top. The signal was given, down I started. After I had 
descended a few feet a current of air coming up from below put out my 
light, which left me in the darkness of an Egyptian night. Down, down, 
down I went. There are a great many things in life that I have forgotten. 
There are a great many more that I expect to forget, but that first ride 
down the coal shaft I never can forget. Thug! I had struck bottom. It is 
said that when one starts down hill in this world he keeps on going until 
he strikes bottom. My readers will certainly agree with me that reaching a 
resting place eight hundred feet under the surface I had found the lowest 
round of the ladder. Whatever I may be in the future, to whatever heights 
I may ascend, I shall not forget that my starting point was nearly a 
thousand feet under the Kansas penitentiary. Water seeks its level. You 
may force one below the surface, and to whatever depth you please, to the 
extent of your power, but if he does not belong there, you cannot keep him 
down: in the course of time he will rise. 

It was six long, dreary months before I was able to reach the first round 
in the ladder. Through that period I lay in the penitentiary mines, or at 
the bottom of "The Kansas Hell." It is said the old fashioned Hell has 
fire and brimstone; while the "Kansas Hell" has no fire, one thing is 
certain, it has plenty of material out of which to make it, and an 
abundant supply of sulphur. 

At the end of my descent I found an officer there on duty. He told me to 
step off and occupy a seat on a small bench near by. He desired to impart 
some information. He advised me that while I was there, a convict, it 
would not be proper to assume the warden's privileges or endeavor to 
discharge his duties. In other words, the best thing to do was to keep my 
place, revolve about in my own orbit, carefully regarding all laws, both 
centripetal and centrifugal; otherwise, I might burst by the natural 
pressure of too highly confined interior forces! I confess that, though 
not subject to such infliction, I very nearly fainted over these ponderous 
polysyllables! He also informed me that the beautifully paved highway to 
popularity in the coal mines was to excavate large quantities of the 
carboniferous substance contained in the subterranean passages of the 
mine; the more coal I got out the more popular would I be! 

After his lecture was over the officer gave a low whistle, and out from a 
dark recess there emerged a convict in his stripes. His face and hands 
were covered with coal dust. He came out grinning, showing his white 
teeth. As I caught sight of him I thought, surely, this is a fiend from 
the lower regions. Take one of those prisoners with his striped clothes, a 
light burning on his head, his face black and shining like ebony, behold 
him in the weird darkness of the mines, and if he does not call to your 
mind the picture of one of the imps of Eternal Night there is nothing in 
this world that will. This prisoner was the runner or messenger for this 
officer at the foot of the shaft. Each officer in the penitentiary who has 
charge of a division of men has a messenger to run errands for him. When 
this messenger came up to the officer he made his obeisance. Convicts are 
taught to observe good manners in the presence of the officials. He was 
told to take me to another officer in a distant part of the mines, a Mr. 
Johns, who would give me work. From the foot of the shaft there go out in 
almost all directions, roadways or "entries." These underground roadways 
are about six feet in width and height. I could walk erect in most of 
them. Along these entries was a car track, over which the small coal cars 
pass to and from the rooms where the coal is taken out, to the shaft, and 
hoisted to the top with their load of coal. Some of these entries extend 
more than a mile out into the earth from the base of the shaft. As my 
fellow-prisoner and I were passing along one of these roadways to the 
place where I was to work, he asked me my name and the nature of my 
offense. At this place let me inform, the reader that the prisoners are 
given permission to converse with each other in the mines. Their 
instructions are to the effect that they are not to talk about anything 
but their work, but in the penitentiary the same rule holds good as on the 
outside: "Give a man an inch and he will take a yard." So, when permission 
is given to the convict to talk about his work, he talks about everything 
else. In answer to my escort's question as to the length of my sentence, I 
informed him that I had eighteen months. He dryly remarked that was 
nothing, and if the judge who sent me up could not give me a longer term 
than that, he should have sent me home to my family. He also remarked that 
he was afraid I would get into trouble in the mines on account of my short 
sentence. There were a great many long-term fellows down there, who were 
envious of short-term men, and were likely to put up jobs on them by 
reporting their mistakes and violations of regulations to the officer in 
charge, and thus get them punished. I informed my guide that I thought I 
would get along some way with the prisoners, and keep out of trouble. I 
then inquired of him as to the length of his sentence. 

"Twenty-five stretches," was his reply. I did not know what he meant by 
the term "stretches" and asked for information. "That is the prison term 
for years, a stretch meaning a year," was his reply. I learned that my 
companion, having twenty-five stretches, was carrying about with him a 
twenty-five years' sentence. A quarter of a century in prison! This was a 
young man. He had been in the prison for three years. When he entered this 
living tomb he had the bloom of youth upon his cheek. When he goes out, at 
the end of his term, if he lives so long, he will be an old, broken down 
man. He will not be likely to live that long. The average life of a 
convict is but fourteen years under the most favorable surroundings, but 
in the coal mines it cannot exceed five years at most. 

Let me tell you of this man's crime, and then you can determine for 
yourself how easy it is to get in the penitentiary. This young fellow is 
the son of one of the most respectable farmers in the State. He attended a 
dance one night in company with some of the neighbor boys at a village 
near by. While there, he got under the influence of strong drink, became 
involved in a quarrel over one of the numbers with the floor managers, and 
in the fight that ensued he drew his knife and disemboweled the man with 
whom he was fighting. In a few moments the wounded man died. The young 
fellow was tried, convicted of murder, and sent to the penitentiary for 
twenty-five years at hard labor. It is awful to contemplate. Young man, as 
you read this, had you not better make up your mind to go rather slow in 
pouring whisky down your throat in future? 

As we passed along through the mines I thought about that word "stretch," 
and as I did not like the idea of having jobs put up on me, came to the 
conclusion that I would render myself popular by telling the prisoners in 
the mines who might ask me as to my sentence, that I had eighteen 
"stretches." I did not think that calling a month a "stretch" would be 
"stretching" my conscience to such a degree as to cause me any particular 
distress, for I knew that by the time I had served out a month it would 
seem equivalent to a year on the outside. 

After following along the entry for some distance, almost a mile, we came 
to that portion of the mines where I was to work. Coming up to the place 
where the officer was seated, the headquarters of this division, my guide 
made a low bow, and informed the officer in charge that he had brought him 
a man. Then bowing himself out, he returned to his place at the foot of 
the shaft. 

The officer in whose division I was to work now signaled his messenger, 
and there came out of the darkness another convict, stripes, cap, lamp and 
all. 

"Get Reynolds a set of mining tools," said the officer. 

These were soon brought, and consisted of a pick, a short-handled shovel, 
two iron wedges and a sledge hammer, 

"Take him," said the officer, "to room number three, and tell George 
Mullen, who is working in that room, to teach him how to mine." 

I got my arms around those implements of coal warfare, and following my 
escort, passed along the entry for some distance, possibly two hundred 
yards, when the roadway in which we were walking suddenly terminated, and 
instead, there was a small hole that went further on into the earth. When 
we came to this place my guide dropped down on his hands and knees and 
passed into the room. I halted. I had never been in such a place before. I 
did not know what there was in that dark hole. Soon my escort called out, 
"Come along, there is nothing in here to hurt you." So I dropped down on 
my hands and knees and into the dark hole I went. 

These rooms where the miners work are about twenty-eight inches in height, 
twenty-four inches wide, and about fifty feet long. Think of working in 
such a place as that! Oh, how often have I sighed for room enough to 
spread myself! How I would have made that coal fly had the vein been on 
top where I could have stood on my feet and mined. George Mullen, the 
convict who was to teach me to mine, was at the farther end of the room at 
work when we entered. We crawled on our hands and knees to him, and when 
my guide had delivered his message he withdrew and hastened back to his 
headquarters near the stand where his officer sat. 

After he had gone and my room-mate and myself were left alone, about the 
first question that George asked me was, "How long have you got?" 

"Eighteen stretches," was my quick reply. 

George loved me dearly from that moment. I very soon discovered that I was 
very popular with him on account of my long sentence. 

"How long are you in for?" said I to him. 

"Always," was his answer. 

He was a life prisoner. At one time he was marshal of a Kansas town, and 
while acting in that capacity he killed his man. He was trying to arrest 
him, so he informed me, and the fellow showed fight, when he took out his 
gun and shot him. It was claimed by the authorities that the shooting was 
unprovoked, and that the man could have been arrested without killing him. 
Aside from the fact that he had killed his man, I must say that I never 
met a man for whom I had a higher regard. He was very kind to me, very 
patient, and made my work as easy for me as he possibly could. I remained 
with him for nearly a month, when, having learned the business, I was 
taken to another part of the mines and given a task. 

"Have you ever mined any?" inquired my instructor. 

"No; I never was in a coal mine before coming here." 

He then gave me my first lesson in mining. I lay on my right side in 
obedience to his orders, stretched out at full length. The short-handled 
shovel was inverted and placed under my right shoulder. This lifted my 
shoulder up from the ground a little distance and I was thus enabled to 
strike with my pick. The vein of coal is about twenty-two inches in 
thickness. We would mine out the dirt, or fire-clay as it was called, from 
under the coal to the distance of two feet, or the length of a pick-
handle, and to the depth of some six inches. We would then set our iron 
wedges in above the vein of coal, and with the sledge hammer would drive 
them in until the coal would drop down. Imagine my forlorn condition as I 
lay therein that small room. It was as dark down there as night but for 
the feeble light given out by the mining lamp; the room was only twenty-
eight inches from the floor to the ceiling, and then above the ceiling 
there were eight hundred feet of mother earth. Two feet from the face of 
the coal, and just back of where I lay when mining, was a row of props 
that held up the roof and kept it from falling in upon me. The loose dirt 
which we picked out from under the coal vein was shoveled back behind the 
props. This pile of dirt, in mining language, is called the "gob." I began 
operations at once. I worked away with all my might for an hour or more, 
picking out the dirt from under the coal. Then I was tired completely out. 
I rolled over on my back, and, with my face looking up to the pile of 
dirt, eight hundred feet thick, that shut out from me the light of day, I 
rested for awhile. I had done no physical work for ten years. I was 
physically soft. To put me down in the mines and set me to digging coal 
was wicked. It was murder. Down in that dark pit how I suffered! There was 
no escape from it. There was the medicine. I had to take it. I do not 
know, but it seems to me that when a man is sent to that prison who has 
not been in the habit of performing physical labor, he should not be put 
to work in the mines until he becomes accustomed to manual labor. It would 
seem that it would be nothing more than right to give him an easier task 
at first and let him gradually become hardened to his work at coal 
digging. Nothing of this kind is done. The young, the old, the middleaged 
are indiscriminately and unceremoniously thrust into the mine. Down there 
are nearly five hundred prisoners. Among them are boys from seventeen to 
twenty years of age, many of whom are in delicate health. Here are to be 
found old men, in some cases sixty years of age. I do not wish to be 
understood as casting any reflections upon the officers of this 
institution. They cannot help these things. If Warden Smith could avoid it 
there would not be a single man sent down to that region of death. The 
mines are there and must be worked. Let this blame fall where it belongs. 
I must say injustice to our common humanity, that to work these two 
classes, the boys and old men, in those coal mines is a burning shame and 
outrage. It is bad enough, as the sequel will show, to put able-bodied, 
middle-aged men to work in that pit. The great State of Kansas has opened 
those mines. Her Legislature has decided to have them worked. It becomes 
the duty, therefore, of the prison directors to work them as long as they 
are instructed to do so, even if scores of human beings are maimed for 
life or murdered outright each year. The blame cannot rest on the prison 
officials, but upon our lawmakers. 



CHAPTER III. THE COAL MINES (Continued)

After we had mined some twenty-five feet we took down the coal. To do this 
the wedges are set and driven in at the top of the vein of coal, with the 
sledge hammer. After my companion had struck the coal several times it 
began to pop and crack as if it would fall at any moment. I became 
alarmed. I was never in such a place before, and I said: "George, had I 
not better get out of this place? I don't want the coal to fall on me the 
first day." His reply was, that if I wanted to learn how to mine I must 
remain near the coal and take my chances of being killed. This was indeed 
comforting! Then he informed me that he was going to knock on the coal and 
wanted me to catch the sound that was produced. He thumped away, and I got 
the sound--a dull, heavy thud. Now, says he, "when coal sounds in that 
manner it is not ready to drop." So he continued to pound away at it. The 
more he pounded the more the coal cracked and the more alarmed I became. I 
was afraid it would drop at any moment and crush me. I begged of him to 
cease pounding until I got into the entry out of the way of danger. He 
tried to make me believe there was no danger. I was hard to convince of 
that fact. There I lay stretched out on my side next to the coal, he 
driving in the wedges, and the coal seeming to me to be ready to drop at 
each stroke of the hammer. "Now listen," said he, "while I knock on the 
coal once more." I listened. The sound was altogether different from the 
first. "Now," said he, "the coal is about ready to fall." It is necessary 
for the miner to know this part of his business. It is by the sound that 
he determines when it is ready to fall. If he is ignorant of this part of 
his work, he would be in great danger of getting killed from the coal 
falling unexpectedly. "Well," said I, "if this coal is about ready to 
drop, had I not better get out of here into the entry, so that I may be 
out of danger?" "No," was his reply; "just crawl up behind that row of 
props and remain in the 'gob' until after the coal falls." In obedience to 
his command I cheerfully got up behind the props and embraced that pile of 
dirt. He struck the wedges a few more blows and then darted behind the 
props out of danger. No sooner had he got out of the way than the coal 
came thundering down. "Now," said my room-mate "go out into the entry and 
bring in the buggy." "All right." And out I went on my hands and knees. I 
soon found my way into the entry, but found no buggy; so back I crawled 
into the room and reported. At this my instructor crawled out to see what 
had become of that singular vehicle known as a mining buggy. I followed 
after. I did not want to remain behind in that coal mine. I did not know 
what might happen should I be left there in that dark hole alone. After we 
had reached the entry where we could stand erect my teacher pointed to an 
object which lay close to our feet, and said to me, "Man, where are your 
eyes?" "In my head," I calmly replied. "Do you see that thing there?" "Of 
course I see that thing." "Well, that is the buggy." "Indeed!" I 
exclaimed. "I am certainly glad to know it, for I never would have taken 
that for a buggy." It had a pair of runners which were held in their 
places by a board being nailed across them. On this was a small box; at 
one end there was a short iron handle. On our knees we pushed the buggy 
into the room, took up the hammer, broke up the coal into lumps we could 
handle, filled up the small box, dragged it out into the entry and emptied 
it into a heap. This is called "buggying" coal. It is the most laborious 
part of mining. Whenever a new man would be placed with the convicts for 
instructions in mining he would have to buggy coal just as long as it was 
possible to get him to do so. After a time, however, he would want to take 
turn about with his teacher. 

After we had finished getting out what we had down the noon hour had 
arrived. At certain places in the entries or roadways there are large 
wooden doors which, when shut, close up the entire passage. These doors 
are for the regulations of the currents of air which pass through the 
mines. The loud noise produced by pounding on one of these doors was the 
signal for dinner. It was now noon. Bang, bang, bang, bang, went the door. 
I had now put in one-half day of my sentence in the mines. Oh! the many 
long, dreary, monotonous days I passed after that! At the call for dinner 
the convict, ALWAYS HUNGRY, suddenly drops his tools and makes his way at 
a rapid pace along the entry until he comes to the place where the 
division officer has his headquarters. Arriving at this place each convict 
takes his position in a line with his fellow-convicts. All talking now 
ceases. They sit on the ground while eating, with their lower limbs 
crossed. There are no soft cushioned chairs on which the tired prisoner 
may rest his weary limbs. When seated, a small piece of pine board, about 
a foot square, is placed across his knees. This is the table. No table 
cloth, no napkins, no table linen of any kind. Such articles as these 
would paralyze a convict! Thus seated in two rows along the sides of the 
entry, with their mining lamps lighted and hanging in their caps, they 
present a weird and interesting sight. The dinner had been brought down 
from the top about an hour before on coal cars. Three of the prisoners are 
now detailed to act as waiters. One passes down between the two rows of 
convicts, carrying in his hand a wooden pail filled with knives and forks. 
These culinary instruments have iron handles. Were they made of wood or 
horn, the convicts would soon break off the handles and make trinkets out 
of them. This waiter, passing along, drops a knife and fork on each table. 
He is followed by another who drops down a piece of corn bread; then 
another with a piece of meat for each man, which he places on the pine 
board. There is no "Please pass the meat," or "Hand over the bread." Not a 
word is spoken. After the knives and forks have been passed around this 
waiter returns and gives each man a quart of water. THIS IS DINNER. The 
bill of fare is regular, and consists of cold water, corn bread and meat. 
Occasionally we have dessert of cold cabbage, or turnips or cracked corn. 
When we have these luxuries they are given to us in rotation, and a day 
always intervenes between cabbage and turnips. In the coal mines the 
prisoner never washes himself before eating. Although he gets his hands 
and face as black as the coal he has been digging, yet he does not take 
time to wash himself before eating. Reader, how would you like to dine in 
this condition? The old saying is, we must all eat our "peck of dirt." I 
think I have consumed at least two bushels and a half! I can never forget 
my first meal in the mines. I was hungry, it was true, but I couldn't 
manage to eat under the circumstances. I sat there on the ground, and in 
silence watched the other prisoners eat. I thought, " You hogs! I can 
never get so hungry as to eat as you are now eating." In this I was 
mistaken. Before ten days had gone by I could eat along with any of them. 
The first day I thought I would do without my dinner, and when supper time 
came go to the top and enjoy a fine meal. I imagined that after digging 
coal all day they would surely give us a good meal in the evening. My 
mouth "watered" for some quail on toast, or a nice piece of tenderloin, 
with a cup of tea. Think of my surprise, when hoisted to the top at the 
close of day, after marching into the dining-room and taking our places at 
the table, when I saw all that was put before the prisoners was a piece of 
bread, a cup of tea without sugar or milk, and two tablespoonfuls of 
sorghum molasses. It did not require a long time for me to dispose of the 
molasses, as I was very hungry, and handed up my cup for an additional 
supply; this was refused. It is considered in the penitentiary an excess 
of two tablespoonfuls of sorghum is unhealthy! There is danger of its 
burning out the stomach! So at each supper after that I had to get along 
with two spoonfuls. As far as the tea was concerned, it was made of some 
unknown material whose aroma was unfamiliar to my olfactory; the taste was 
likewise unfamiliar, and in consequence of these peculiarities of the 
prison tea I never imbibed of it but the one time, that being amply 
sufficient to last through the entire period of my confinement. From that 
day on I took cold water, which, after all, is God's best beverage for the 
human race. The penitentiary, so far as I know, is the only place in the 
State of Kansas where prohibition actually works prohibition as 
contemplated by the laws of the State! There are no "joints" in the Pen. 
No assistant attorney generals are necessary to enforce prohibition there. 
I never saw a drunken man in the prison. The Striped Temperance Society of 
Kansas is a success. 

For breakfast in the prison we have hash, bread, and a tin cup of coffee, 
without sugar or milk; no butter, no meat. The hash is made of the pieces 
of bread and meat left over from the preceding day. We had it every day in 
the year for breakfast. During my entire time in the prison I had nothing 
for breakfast but hash. One day I was talking to an old murderer who had 
been there for eighteen years, and he told me he had eaten hash for his 
breakfast during his entire term--six thousand five hundred and seventy 
days. I looked at the old man and wondered to myself whether he was a 
human being or a pile of hash, half concluding that he was the latter! 

In conversation with the chaplain of the prison I received the following 
anecdote, which I will relate for the benefit of my readers. It is 
customary in the prison, after the Sunday exercises, for such as desire to 
remain and hold a sort of class meeting, or, as some call it, experience 
meeting. In one of these, an old colored man arose, and said: "Breddren, 
ebber since Ize been in dis prison Ize been tryin' to git de blessin'; Ize 
prayed God night and day. Ize rascelled wid de Almighty 'till my hips was 
sore, but Ize nebber got it. Some sez its la'k ob faith. Some its la'k of 
strength, but I b'l'eves de reason am on 'count ob de quality ob dis hash 
we hab ebbery day!" 

Accidents are occurring almost daily. Scarcely a day passes but what some 
man receives injuries. Often very severe accidents happen, and 
occasionally those which prove fatal. Many men are killed outright. These 
accidents are caused by the roof of the little room in which the miner 
works falling in upon him, and the unexpected drop of coal. Of course 
there are many things that contribute to accidents, such as bad machinery, 
shafts, dirt rolling down, landslides, etc. 

One day there was a fellow-prisoner working in the room adjoining me; he 
complained to the mining boss that he did not want to go into that room to 
work because he thought it was dangerous. The officer in charge thought 
differently, and told him to go in there and go to work or he would report 
him. The prisoner hadn't been in the place more than a half hour before 
the roof fell and buried him. It took some little time to get him out. 
When the dirt was removed, to all appearances he was dead. He was carried 
to the hospital on a stretcher, and the prison physician, Doctor Neeally, 
examined him, and found that both arms were broken in two places, his legs 
both broken, and his ribs crushed. The doctor, who is a very eminent and 
successful surgeon, resuscitated him, set his broken bones, and in a few 
weeks what was thought to be a dead man, was able to move about the prison 
enclosure, although one of his limbs was shorter than the other, and he 
was rendered a cripple for life. 

On another occasion a convict was standing at the base of the shaft. The 
plumb-bob, a piece of lead about the size of a goose egg, accidentally 
fell from the top of the shaft, a distance of eight hundred feet, and, 
striking this colored man on the head, it mashed his skull, and 
bespattered the walls with his brains. 

I had three narrow escapes from death. One day I lay in my little room 
resting, and after spending some time stretched out upon the ground, I 
started off to another part of my room to go to work, when all of a sudden 
the roof fell in, and dropped down just where I had been lying. Had I 
remained a minute longer in that place, I would have been killed. As it 
happened, the falling debris just struck my shoe as I was crawling out 
from the place where the material fell. 

At another time I had my room mined out and was preparing to take down the 
coal. I set my wedges in a certain place above the vein of coal and began 
to strike with my sledge hammer, when I received a presentiment to remove 
my wedges from that place to another. Now I would not have the reader 
believe that I was in any manner superstitious, but I was so influenced by 
that presentiment that I withdrew my wedges and set them in another place; 
then I proceeded to strike them a second time with the sledge hammer, 
when, unexpectedly, the vein broke and the coal fell just opposite to 
where my head was resting, and came within an inch of striking it. Had I 
remained in the place where I first set my wedges, the coal would have 
fallen upon me; it had been held in its place by a piece of sulphur, and 
when it broke, it came down without giving me any warning. 

On still another occasion, my mining boss came to my room and directed me 
to go around to another part of the mine and assist two prisoners who were 
behind with their work. I obeyed. I hadn't been out of my room more than 
about half an hour when there occurred a land-slide in it, which filled 
the room entirely full of rock, slate and coal. It required several men 
some two weeks to remove the amount of debris that had fallen on that 
occasion. Had I been in there, death would have been certain at that time. 

Gentle reader, let me assure you, that although some persons 
misunderstanding me, assert that I am without belief in anything, yet I 
desire to say, when reflecting upon these providential deliverances, that 
I believe in the Eternal Will that guides, directs, controls and protects 
the children of men. While many of my fellow-prisoners were maimed for 
life and some killed outright, I walked through that valley and shadow of 
death without even a hair of my head being injured. Why was this? My 
answer is the following: Over in the State of Iowa, among the verdant 
hills of that beautiful commonwealth, watching the shadows as they longer 
grow, hair whitened with the frosts of many seasons, heart as pure as an 
angel's, resides my dear old mother. I received a letter from her one day, 
and among other things was the following: 

"I love you now in your hour of humiliation and disgrace as I did when you 
were a prattling babe upon my knee. 

* * 

"I would also have you remember that every night before I retire to rest, 
kneeling at my bedside, I ask God to take care of and watch over my boy." 

Of the nine hundred convicts in the penitentiary not one of their mothers 
ever forgot or deserted them. A mother's prayers always follow her 
prodigal children. Go, gather the brightest and purest flowers that bend 
and wave in the winds of heaven, the roses and lilies, the green vine and 
immortelles, wreathe them in a garland, and with this crown the brow of 
the truest of all earthly friends--Mother! Another reason I give for my 
safe keeping in that hour of darkness and despair: In the city of 
Atchison, on a bed of pain and anguish, lay my true, devoted and dying 
wife. Every Sunday morning regularly would I receive a letter dictated by 
her. Oh! the tender, loving words! "Every day," said she, "I pray that God 
will preserve your life while working in the jaws of death." The true and 
noble wife, the helpmeet of man, clings to him in the hour of misfortune 
and calamity as the vine clings to the tree when prostrate on the ground. 
No disgrace can come so shameful that it will cause the true wife to 
forsake. She will no more forsake than the true soldier will desert on the 
battlefield. For those imps in human form that endeavor to detract from 
the honor belonging to the wives of the country there ought to be no 
commiseration whatever. Let us honor the wifehood of our native land. It 
is the fountain of all truth and righteousness, and if the fountain should 
become impure, all is lost. One more reason: Before I was sent to the 
prison I was an evangelist, and was instrumental in the hands of God of 
persuading hundreds of people to abandon a wicked life and seek the good. 
During my imprisonment I received many letters from these men and women 
who had been benefited on account of what I had said to them, and they 
informed me that they still retained confidence in me and were praying God 
for my deliverance. 

Now, I believe, in answer to a mother's prayers, in answer to the prayers 
of my sainted wife, in answer to the prayers of good men and women, who 
were converts to "the faith once delivered to the saints" under my earnest 
endeavors--in answer to all these prayers, God lent a listening ear and 
preserved me from all harm and danger. 

PATHETIC OCCURRENCES IN THE MINES 

It is a great consolation for prisoners to receive letters from their 
friends. One day a convict working in the next room to me inquired if I 
would like to see a letter. I replied I would. He had just received one 
from his wife. This prisoner was working out a sentence of five years. He 
had been in the mines some two years. At home, he had a wife and five 
children. They were in destitute circumstances. In this letter his wife 
informed him that she had been taking in washing for the support of 
herself and children, and that at times they had to retire early because 
they had no fuel to keep them warm. Also, that, on several occasions, she 
had been compelled to put the children to bed without supper. But this 
noble woman stated to her husband that their lot was not so bad as his. 
She encouraged him to bear up under his burdens, and that the time would 
soon come when his sentence would expire and he would be permitted to 
return home again, and that the future would be bright once more as it had 
been before the unfortunate circumstances that led to his imprisonment. It 
was a good letter, written by a noble woman. A couple of days after this, 
as I was mining, I heard a voice in the adjoining room. I listened. At 
first I thought it was the mining boss, but I soon discovered I was 
mistaken. Listening again I came to the conclusion that the convict who 
was working in the next room was becoming insane, a frequent occurrence in 
the mines. Many of the poor convicts being unable to stand the strain of 
years and the physical toil, languish and die in the insane ward. To 
satisfy my curiosity, I took my mining lamp from my cap, placed it on the 
ground, covered it up as best I could with some pieces of slate, and then 
crawled up in the darkness near where he was. I never saw such a sight as 
was now presented to me. This broad-shouldered convict on his knees, with 
his frame bent over, his face almost touching the floor of the room, was 
praying for his wife and children. Such a prayer I never heard before, nor 
do I expect to hear again. His petition was something like the following: 

"Oh, Heavenly Father, I am myself a wicked, desperate man. I do not 
deserve any love or protection for my own sake. I do not expect it, but 
for the sake of Jesus do have mercy on my poor wife and helpless 
children." 

I have been able, many times in my life, to spend an hour or more in the 
prayer circle, and, unmoved, could listen to the prayers of the children 
of God. But I could not remain there in the darkness and listen to such a 
prayer as that going forth from the lips of that poor convict; so I glided 
back through the darkness into my own room, and left him there alone, 
pleading with his Creator for his lone and helpless ones at home. 

Reader, did God listen to the wails of that poor heart-stricken prisoner? 
Yes! yes! yes! For though a prodigal, sinful child, yet he is still a 
child of the universal Father. Who of us dare excommunicate him? What 
frail mortal of passing time would dare lift up his hand and say, this 
poor wanderer is forgotten of his God? 

What a glorious privilege is communion with God. What a sweet consolation 
to know God hears, though we may be far removed from the dear ones we 
love. And who can tell the glorious things that have been wrought by the 
wonderful Father of the race by that strong lever of prayer. How often has 
the rough ways of life been made smooth. How often do we fail to credit 
the same to the kind intercession of friends with the Father of us all. 

But to continue, it often happens that in the coal mines, persons, no 
longer able to sustain the heavy load that is placed upon them of 
remaining in prison for a long time, give way, and they become raving 
maniacs. One day a prisoner left his room, and crawling out on his hands 
and knees into the entry, sat down on a pile of coal and commenced to 
sing. He had a melodious voice, and these were the words, the first stanza 
of that beautiful hymn: 

"Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly." 

After he had completed the first stanza two of the officers came to him 
and directed him to go back into the room to work. He replied that he did 
not have to work; that he had religion, and that when a man had religion 
he did not have to work. Said he, "We are now going to have a prayer 
meeting, and" addressing one of the officers, "you you will please lead us 
in prayer." The officer replied, "I don't pray in coal mines; I pray above 
the surface so that God can hear." At this the insane convict picked up a 
large piece of coal and was going to hurl it after him, and threatened 
that if he did not get on his knees and go to praying he would compel him 
to do so. While he was thus addressing one officer the other slipped 
around in his rear and striking his arm knocked the piece of coal out of 
his hand. Then the officers seized him, one on each side, and forced him 
to go with them down the roadways to the shaft, from whence he was taken 
to the top and placed in the insane ward, where he remains at this 
writing. As he was passing down the entries, away in the distance we heard 
him singing-- 

"Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee.
Leave, oh leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me." 

I can never forget the impression made upon me as those words rang down 
through the dark passages, coming from the lips of that insane convict as 
they led him away from the confinement of the mines to the confinement of 
insanity. How true those beautiful words were in his case! 

THE COAL MINES A COLLEGE OF INFAMY 

The mines of this Penal institution are a college for the education and 
graduation of hardened criminals, and for illustration, and the 
instruction of those not familiar with the subject matter referred to, I 
will relate what came under my personal observation, and some things that 
I heard while in there. One day, in company with me while engaged in 
mining, were two other convicts. One of these was a hardened old crook. He 
was serving out a term on the charge of making and passing counterfeit 
money. The other fellow-convict was a young man seventeen years of age--a 
mere boy. Tired of mining, we laid off awhile, resting. During this time 
the old convict gave us instructions in the manner of making counterfeit 
money. He told us how he would construct his counterfeit molds out of 
plaster paris, which he would use in the same manner that bullet molds are 
used. He would purchase some britannica metal. On some dark night he would 
go into the forest, build up a fire, melt the metal, pour the melted 
liquor into the molds, and in this manner make silver dollars. He informed 
us that it didn't take very long to make a hatful of money. A few days 
thereafter this young man, who was with us in the room at the time, 
informed me that when he went out again into the world, if he was unable 
to secure work, he would try his hand at making counterfeit money. I 
advised him not to do this, as it was almost a certainty that he would be 
detected. He thought differently. About a month thereafter he was released 
from the prison. He went out into the world, and, unable to obtain work, 
DID try his hand at making counterfeit money. Shortly before my time 
expired here came this young man to prison again, with a sentence of three 
years at hard labor for making and passing counterfeit money. He had 
received his criminal instruction in the penitentiary mines, the result of 
which will be that he will spend the greater portion of his life a 
convict. 

There are a great many instances where these young convicts, having 
received their education in the coal mines, go into the world to become 
hardened criminals. Down in this school of crime, in the midst of the 
darkness, they learn how to make burglary tools, to crack safes, and to 
become expert as pickpockets; they take lessons in confidence games, and 
when their time expires they are prepared for a successful career of 
crime. It is utterly impossible for the officers of the coal mines to 
prevent these men from conversing with each other. If these mines were 
sold, and the money obtained from the sale of them was used in building 
workhouses on the surface, and these men placed at work there under the 
watchful care of the official, they would then be unable to communicate 
with each other, and would be saved from the debasing contamination of the 
hardened criminals. They would be saved from all this that degrades and 
makes heartless wretches. 

A scene occurred in the mines one day that illustrates the fact that 
judges sometimes, in their anxiety to enforce the laws, overstep the 
bounds of justice, and inflict excessive punishment and place burdens upon 
human beings which they are unable to bear. One afternoon in the city of 
Emporia ten tramps were arrested and thrown into the county jail. During 
the succeeding night one of these persons thrust a poker into the stove, 
and heating it red hot, made an effort to push the hot iron through the 
door, thus burning a large hole in the door-casing. The next morning the 
sheriff, entering the jail, perceiving what this vagrant had done, was 
displeased, and tried to ascertain which one of the ten was guilty of the 
offense. The comrades of the guilty party refused to disclose the 
perpetrator of the act. Court was then in session. The sheriff had these 
ten fellows brought into court, hoping that when placed upon the witness 
stand, under oath, they would tell which had committed the offense. Even 
in court they were true to each other, and would not reveal the 
perpetrator. They were then all convicted, and the judge passed a sentence 
of ten years upon each of these vagrants for that trivial offense. They 
came to the penitentiary. The day after their arrival they were all sent 
to the coal mines. For two years they worked day after day down in the 
Kansas bastile. One morning, after they had been in the mines for two 
years, one of the number, at the breakfast table in the dining-room, 
unperceived secreted a knife in his clothing and carried it with him down 
to his place of work. He went into his little room and began the labors of 
the day. After toiling for a few hours he took a stone and sharpened his 
knife the best he possibly could, then stepped out into the entry where he 
could stand erect, and with his head thrown back drew that knife across 
his throat, cutting it from ear to ear, thus terminating his life, 
preferring death to longer remaining in the mines of the Kansas Hell! Who 
is there that is not convinced of the fact that the blood of this suicide 
stains the garments of the judge who placed this unbearable burden of ten 
years upon this young man, and who, I subsequently learned, was innocent 
of the offense. I would advise the good people of Lyons County, and of 
Emporia particularly, after they have perused this book, if they come to 
the conclusion that they have no better material out of which to construct 
a district judge, to go out on the frontier and lassoo a wild Comanche 
Indian and bring him to Emporia and place him upon the ermined bench. I do 
not even know the name of this judge, but I believe, if I am correctly 
informed in this case, that his judgment is deficient somewhere. But I 
must say in this connection, when the good people of Lyons County heard of 
this suicide, they immediately thereafter petitioned the Board of Pardons 
for the release of these prisoners, and the board at once reported 
favorably upon their cases, and Governor Martin promptly granted their 
pardons and they were released from the prison. If the pardon had not been 
granted, others of them had resolved upon taking their lives as did their 
comrade. One of these prisoners was for a time a companion of mine in one 
of my mining rooms, and told me if he was required to remain in the coal 
mines digging coal another three months he had made up his mind to follow 
the example of his comrade, preferring death to the horrors of the mines. 

For the further information of the reader, as to the dread of the 
prisoners of work in the mines, I cite the following which I call to 
recollection. The gentlemanly physician of the institution, Dr. Neeally, 
told me that at four different times men had feigned death in the mines 
and had been carried on stretchers to the hospital; the particulars in one 
case is as follows: One of these men feigned death and was carried to the 
hospital, and was reported by his comrades to be dead. He had suppressed 
his breathing. The physician felt his pulse, and finding it regular, of 
course knew he was simply endeavoring to deceive. In order to experiment, 
the physician coincided with the statements of the attending convicts who 
had carried him from the mines, and announced that he would try 
electricity, and if he failed to restore him to life he would then have to 
bury him in the regular way. The doctor retired for the purpose of getting 
his electrical apparatus. In a few moments he returned, bringing it with 
him, and placing the magnetic cups, one in each hand, commenced generating 
the electricity by turning the generator attached to the machine. After a 
few turns of the crank the prisoner opened his eyes; one or two more and 
he sat up; a few more and he stood on his feet; another turn or two and he 
commenced dancing around, and exclaimed, "For God's sake, doctor, do quit, 
for I ain't dead, but I can't let loose!" Reader, what do you suppose was 
the object this convict had in view in thus feigning death? What did he 
hope to gain thereby? Being well acquainted with this prisoner, a few days 
after the doctor had told me of the circumstances I met him, and asked him 
what object he had in feigning death the time that he was taken from the 
mines to the hospital? His reply was that he hadn't the nerve to take his 
own life, as he believed in a future state of punishment, and that he did 
not desire to step from the Kansas Hell to the hell of the future, and 
that by feigning death he hoped to be taken to the hospital, placed in a 
coffin, then taken out to the prison graveyard, and buried alive, so that 
he would suffocate in his grave! 

There is not a man in those mines but would leave them quickly for a place 
on the surface. 

I now call to mind one instance where a heart-broken father came to the 
prison and offered one of the leading prison officials one thousand 
dollars if he would take his son out of the coal mines and give him a 
place on the surface during the remainder of his term. A man who labors in 
these mines simply spends his time, not knowing but the next hour will be 
his last. 

As I have stated heretofore the prisoners are allowed to converse in the 
mines, and as a result of this almost necessary rule, every convict has an 
opportunity to listen to the vilest obscenity that ever falls upon human 
ears. At times, when some of these convicts, who seem veritable 
encyclopedias of wickedness, are crowded together, the ribald jokes, 
obscenity and blasphemy are too horrible for description. It is a 
pandemonium--a miniature hell! But worse than this horrible flow of 
language are the horrible and revolting practices of the mines. Men, 
degraded to a plane lower than the brutes, are guilty of the unmentionable 
crimes referred to by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans, 
chapter I, verse 27, which is as follows: "And likewise also the men, 
leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lusts one toward 
another, men with men, working that which is unseemly, and receiving in 
themselves that recompense of their error which was meet." Every 
opportunity is here offered for this vile practice. They are far removed 
from the light and even from the influences of their officers, and in the 
darkness and silence old and hardened criminals debase and mistreat 
themselves and sometimes the younger ones that are associated with them in 
their work. These cases of self-abuse and sodomy are of daily occurrence, 
and, although the officials of the prison take every precaution to prevent 
such evil practices, yet, as a matter of fact, so long as prisoners are 
permitted to work in the mines it will be impossible to break up these 
terribly degrading and debasing practices. Oh, Kansan! you that boast of 
the freedom and liberty, the strength of your laws, and the institutions 
in your grand young State, what do you think of this disclosure of 
wickedness, equalling if not excelling the most horrible things ever 
pictured by the divine teachers of humanity,--the apostles and their 
followers? A hint is only here given, but to the wise it will be 
sufficient, and but a slight exercise of the imaginative powers will be 
necessary to unfold to you the full meaning of this terrible state of 
affairs. 

It is believed by the writer that if the people of the State of Kansas 
knew under what circumstances men in the prison were compelled to work, 
there would be a general indignation, which would soon be expressed 
through the proper channels, and which might lead to a proper solution of 
the difficulty. 

In many of the rooms of the mines there are large pools of water which 
accumulate there from dripping down from the crevices above; this, taken 
in connection with the natural damps of the mines, which increases the 
water, makes very large pools, and in these mud-holes convicts are 
compelled to work and wallow about all day long while getting out their 
coal, more like swine than anything else. How can this be in the line of 
reformation, which, we are taught to believe outside of the prison walls, 
is the principal effort of all discipline within the prison. The result of 
work under such unfavorable circumstances is that many of the convicts 
contract rheumatism, neuralgia, pneumonia and other lung troubles, and, of 
course, malaria. Many persons that enter these mines in good health come 
out physical wrecks, often to find homes in the poor-houses of the land 
when their prison days are over, or die before their terms expire. In the 
judgment of the writer the coal mines should be sold; until that is done, 
prisoners who contract diseases there that will carry them to untimely 
graves should be pensioned by the State, and thus kept from spending the 
rest of their natural lives in some of the country poorhouses. 

Each person in the mines is assigned a task; he is required to get out a 
certain amount of coal each week. In case the convict fails to mine the 
task that has been assigned him he must endure punishment, a description 
of which will be given later on. It is the opinion of the author that 
something should be done to remedy this. The young men from seventeen to 
twenty, together with the old men from fifty to sixty, and those suffering 
from diseases, are often required to dig as much coal as middle-aged and 
able-bodied men. I have seen old men marching to their cells after a hard 
day's work scarcely able to walk, and many times have I laid in the mines 
along with these young boys who would spend hours crying like whipped 
children for fear they would be unable to get out their regular task of 
coal, and would therefore have to spend the Sabbath in the dungeon, 
suffering unspeakable anguish. 

Because of the dangers to which the inmate is exposed; because of the 
debasing influences by which lie is surrounded, it is wrong, it is WICKED 
to work our criminals in such a place as those mines of the Kansas 
penitentiary.