somebody_ as ain't thin."

From the great hall of Holloway prison we were conducted through a
passage under the staircase to the basement of the reception wing. Our
pockets were emptied, but not searched, and every article stowed away
in a little bag. One by one we went into an office, where a clerkly
official wrote our descriptions in a book. "What religion?" he inquired,
when he came to the theological department. "None," I replied. "What!"
he rejoined, "surely you're Catholic or Protestant or something." Then,
with a flourish of the pen, and an air of finality, he put the question
again more decisively, "What religion?" "None," I said. He stared,
gave me up as a bad job, and wrote down "Religion none." That extremely
succinct description figured for twelve months on the card outside my
cell door, and I have heard prisoners speculating as to what sort of
religion "none" was. It was the name of a sect they had never heard of.

The prisoners' cards, affixed to their cell doors, and containing their
name, age, crime, sentence, class and creed, were of two colors--white
(the emblem of purity) for the Protestants, and red (the symbol of sin)
for the Catholics. These criminal members of the two great divisions of
Christendom, like their better or more fortunate co-religionists out
of doors, do not mix in their devotions. They worship God at different
times, although, alas! the same building has to serve for both. No
special color has been found requisite for Freethinkers, who seldom
trouble the prison officials, although this fact is only another proof
of their uncommon obstinacy; for it is clear that, according to their
principles, they ought to fill our gaols, yet they perversely refrain
from those crimes which every principle of consistency obliges them to
commit.

After this ceremony we were conducted upstairs to our cells in the
reception wing, to await an opportunity of washing and changing our
clothes. We passed several prisoners at work in the corridors. All were
silent and stolid, and I could hardly resist the impression that I was
in a lunatic asylum. We were handed over to a red-haired and red-bearded
warder, who locked us up in separate cells. Before closing my door, he
asked whether I was a German, and had any connection with Herr Most. I
explained that the _Freiheit_ and the _Freethinker_ were very different
papers. "What's your sentence?" he said. "Twelve months." "Whew! but
it's a long time." Yes, my red-h