to which he will
probably never return. The look on his face is one not easy to forget, in
its white stare of patient suffering. It seemed to typify long years of
stolid endurance until the worn-out old frame had simply crumbled under
the accumulated load.

There may be another lonely deathbed in the hospital to-night. No wife or
child, no friend of any sort to smooth the pillow or to close the eyes.
Alas, the pity of it!

But the sight is evidently no new one to my comrades. A few minutes only
and the shadow has passed. There is even apparent an air of anxiety lest
we dwell too much on the mournful episode. It will not do to think of
death here; anything--anything but that!

It must be at about half-past eleven that a certain air of restlessness
pervading the shop shows that dinner time is approaching. Murphy goes for
his soap and towel. "Come on, Brown, and wash up."

"I'm sorry, I forgot and left my soap and towel in my cell."

"Well, never mind, come and use mine."

So, raising my hand for the Captain's permission to leave my place, I join
Murphy at the sink, and again we use his soap and towel in common. My
partner's treatment of me is certainly very satisfactory; there is just
enough of an air of protection suitable for a man who knows the ropes to
show toward his partner who does not, combined with an open-hearted
deference to an older man of wider experience that somehow is
extraordinarily pleasant.

Before going back to the cell-house we march first to the place where we
left the buckets this morning before breakfast. Each man secures his own
bucket, which is marked with the number of his cell; then we go swinging
up the yard, break ranks at the side door of the north wing, up the
stairs, traverse the long gallery, and so to my cell around the corner.
It begins to have a certain homelike association; but I do dislike having
to close the grated door and lock myself in every time.

The gallery boy has been most attentive. I find a rack for my towels and a
mirror added to the cell equipment; also he has promised me a better
electric light bulb. There are two gallery boys, I find; one is George,
the other is Joe. George is Captain Lamb's trusty, and serves in the shop
as well as the gallery. He has been the one who has added my new
furnishings. Joe I see only when I am in my cell; and I do not know where
he works. He brings me water and has been most genial.

There seems to be about half an hour at noon b