ssing beyond where ordered. How any one could live in that
polluted and poisonous atmosphere was the wonder. In the inclosure there
was a dirty, swampy piece of ground, with water stinking with filth of a
character sickening to behold. When the rain fell all were subjected to
the drenching cold bath. On the ground and in the mud and the damp they
lay. Many were there who during the prior Winter had been so exposed
as to have their feet frozen, until in many instances they were rotting
off.

"These sights were so shocking in all respects that Miss Seraine was
afraid to speak, (except to say a kind word, when permitted to do so,)
to any of the unfortunate men. It seemed to her that Hibbard knew where
Henry was, but was avoiding bringing her into his presence. So she said
not a word, but looked well at all in view as she passed along.

"The punishments for any and every little breach of discipline were of
the most outrageous character. She saw many persons with their hands
tied behind them, and others standing, with their thumbs run through
loops of cords tied up to posts. The guards were insolent and were
constantly damning the prisoners. Take it altogether--their dirty,
filthy food, their mode of cooking, their scanty rations, their clothes,
the stinking water they were forced to use, the treatment of the sick,
the punishments they were compelled to bear, the dirty, vile pen they
were in, and the poisonous atmosphere they were forced to breathe, there
is no account anywhere in the barbarous ages that ever did or could
equal Pine Forest Prison.

"Miss Seraine became sick and tired of the horrible sights, and at last
said to Mr. Hibbard that she did not wish to go around any more to look
upon the suffering prisoners, but desired to be taken where Mr. Lyon
was, if in the prison. He replied that he thought he was in the main
hospital. They directed their steps thither. On entering it she beheld
so many ghastly men at one view that she recoiled, and for a moment
hesitated. Recovering herself she proceeded. While passing along she
beheld a young man with sunken eyes, pale and ashy cheeks, lying on a
board cot, so emaciated that she had no thought of who it could be.
But in a moment she heard her name whispered, and saw a lean, bony hand
reaching out towards her. She looked at him, took his cold, withered
hand, and spoke to him, asking if she could do anything for him. He
said:

"'I am Henry Lyon, Seraine. Do you not recogn