it came to
pass, that with the exception of a small "lockup" attached to Police
Headquarters, X--had failed to rebuild its jail, and domiciled its
dangerous transgressors in the great stone prison; paying therefor to
the State an annual amount per capita.

Built of gray granite which darkened with time and weather stains, its
massive walls, machicolated roof, and tall arched clock-tower lifted
their leaden outlines against the sky, and cast a brooding shadow over
the town, lying below; a grim perpetual menace to all who subsequently
found themselves locked in its reformatory arms. Separated from the
bustling mart and busy traffic, by the winding river that divided the
little city into North and South X--, it crested an eminence on the
north; and the single lower story flanking the main edifice east and
west, resembled the trailing wings of some vast bird of prey, an
exaggerated simulacrum of a monstrous gray condor perched on a "coigne
of vantage," waiting to swoop upon its victims. Encircled by a tall
brick wall, which was surmounted by iron spikes sharp as bayonets, that
defied escalade, the grounds extended to the verge of the swift stream
in front, and stretched back to the border of a heavily timbered tract
of pine land, a bit of primeval forest left to stare at the encroaching
armies of Philistinism.

Within the precincts of the yard, the tender conservatism of our
great-hearted mother Nature, gently toned the savage stony features;
and even under the chill frown of iron barred windows, golden sunshine
bravely smiled, soft grasses wove their emerald velvet tapestries
starred and flushed with dainty satin petals, which late Autumn roses
showered in munificent contribution, to the work of pitying love.

In a comfortably furnished room situated in the second story of the
main building, sat a woman apparently thirty-five years old, who was
singing to a baby lying face downward on her lap, while with one hand
she rocked the wicker cradle beside her, where a boy of four years was
tossing. Her hazel eyes were full of kindly light, the whole face
eloquent with that patient, limitless tenderness, which is the magic
chrism of maternity, wherewith Lucina and Cuba abundantly anoint
Motherhood. The blessed and infallible nepenthe for all childhood's
ills and aches, mother touch, mother songs, soon held soothing sway;
and when the woman laid the sleeping babe on her own bed, and covered
her with a shawl, she saw her husband