he bread and water served
to it for breakfast.

"Martin went out after the breakfast had been served, and bought the few
sweet biscuits for the child rather than see it starving. It was a
beautiful action on his part, and was so recognised by the child, who,
utterly unconscious of the regulation of the Prison Board, told one of
the senior warders how kind this junior warder had been to him. The
result was, of course, a report and a dismissal.[9]

"I know Martin extremely well, and I was under his charge for the last
seven weeks of my imprisonment.... I was struck by the singular kindness
and humanity of the way in which he spoke to me and to the other
prisoners. Kind words are much in prison, and a pleasant 'good-morning'
or 'good-evening' will make one as happy as one can be in prison. He was
always gentle and considerate....

"A great deal has been talked and written lately about the contaminating
influence of prison on young children. What is said is quite true. A
child is utterly contaminated by prison life. But this contaminating
influence is not that of the prisoners. It is that of the whole prison
system--of the governor, the chaplain, the warders, the solitary cell,
the isolation, the revolting food, the rules of the Prison
Commissioners, the mode of discipline, as it is termed, of the life.

"Of course no child under fourteen years of age should be sent to prison
at all. It is an absurdity, and, like many absurdities, of absolutely
tragical results...."

This letter, I am informed, brought about some improvement in the
treatment of young children in British prisons. But in regard to adults
the British prison is still the torture chamber it was in Wilde's time;
prisoners are still treated more brutally there than anywhere else in
the civilised world; the food is the worst in Europe, insufficient
indeed to maintain health; in many cases men are only saved from death
by starvation through being sent to the infirmary. Though these facts
are well known, _Punch_, the pet organ of the British middle-class, was
not ashamed a little while ago to make a mock of some suggested reform,
by publishing a picture of a British convict, with the villainous face
of a Bill Sykes, lying on a sofa in his cell smoking a cigar with
champagne at hand. This is not altogether due to stupidity, as Oscar
tried to believe, but to reasoned selfishness. _Punch_ and the class for
which it caters would like to believe that many convicts ar