In 1899, a warder in Millbank Prison, London, wrote a letter to a newspaper (I haven′t been able to find which newspaper), concerning things he had seen written on the walls of prison cells, and other places. The article is pasted in my grandfather′s scrapbook but he hasn′t, infortunately, given the name or date of the original newspaper.
The article reads as follows:–
"SINGULAR INSCRIPTIONS IN PRISONS"
"Some few years ago, when I was a warder at Millbank prison, amongst the prisoners under my charge was one who had evidently moved in a good or rather a high state of society, as his pronunciation and his manner of speech altogether appeared to me to be almost faultless, and as I always like to speak as correctly as I can myself, in giving him an order, etc., I used to try to deal with a letter H as he did; now, he was evidently annoyed at this, but fearing no doubt a report should he orally complain to me, he took the opportunity to write on his cell slate of following lines, which I found when the ward were at exercise, and when I went on my daily round of cell inspection: –"
"Though strange it may seem, it is certainly true,
That while you laugh at me, I am laughing at you,
But what makes us laugh, one would scarcely surmise,
Though when told they do not feel one bit of surprise;
You laugh because I pertinaciously use
A letter which you are inclined to abuse
The letter, you know, is the H, as in hear,
A letter you often omit for ′tis clear,
That you would not laugh at your poor fellow self
If you thought for one moment he spoke like yourself;
But 'tis the old story, we each fuss and bother
To find the peculiar traits in each other,
And when we have these in each case is ascertained,
We laugh without thinking how little we've gained
So then you agree it would far better seem,
Should each one extract from his own eye the beam,
In place of contriving by much fuss and bother,
To point out the mote in the eyes of his brother."
"I found the undermentioned verse scratched on the bottom of the tin pint soon after the prisoner had been discharged:–"
"Farewell! Ye pots, ye pints, ye boards,
And all other things this prison life affords
I go ′mongst more arousing scenes to dwell
But ne′er shall I forget thee, "little cell".
"Another I found written on the cell slate:–"
"Roll on, slow wheel of Time, ′tis hard to brood
On misspent time while here in solitude
So I for consolation turn to thee
For on thy speed depends my liberty"
"So prythee haste, as though by lightning driven,
Speed on far quicker than the winds of heaven
Each hour appears much longer than the last
Each brings some reminiscence of the past."
"Which takes me back to childhood's happy days
By ragged paths and life's uneven ways
The olling bell, which sounds so sad and drear
And numerous things I often see and hear"
"Bring vivid scenes of home and loving friends
And conscience murmurs, "try and make amends"
Then as each night the moonbeams ′tween the bars
Of my seclusion, I behold the stars;"
"And thus, entranced by gentle moonlight beams,
Transported to the past I lay in dream,
I live again, those, happy childhood hours,
And revel in the sunshine and the flowers;"
"I hear the parson preach the Word sublime,
I live untainted, unimbued with crime,
But this must quickly past. I merely stir
And wake to find myself a prisoner"
"Thus night and day alternate, come and go,
Each but augmenting my terrific woe
And weeks roll on, to each one leave behind
Some burden for this overburdened mind,"
"Until I seem to sink beneath the strain
Of this excruciating mental pain
But, as all things must change and pass away,
I yearningly anticipate the day"
"On which this horrid sentence shall expire,
That I may from this hideous place retire
And in some other land my anchor cast,
To dream and meditate upon the past."
"This was scratched with a pin or small nail on the tin cell plate:–"
"I cannot take my walks abroad, I′m under lock and key,
And much the public I applaud for all their care of me.
Not more than others I deserve; in fact, much less than more.
Yet I have food while others starve, or beg from door-to-door."
"The honest pauper in the street half naked I behold,
while I am clad from head to foot, and covered from the cold.
Thousands there are who scarce can tell where they may lay their head,
but I′ve a warm and well-aired cell, a bath, good books, good bed."
"While they are fed on workhouse fare and grudged their scanty food,
three times a day my meals I get, sufficient, wholesome, good
then here′s to the British public′s health who all our care relieves,
and while they treat us as they do they–ll never want for thieves."
"WARDER"
