Mr. C. E. Russell, in _Hampton’s Magazine_, gives some experiences
of Dr. H. H. Hart, of Chicago, member of the National Prison
Association. One time he went to an Illinois jail in a small rural
town, and asked to see the sheriff:
It appeared that the sheriff was visiting in another part of
the county. Doctor Hart asked for the jailer. The jailer was
absent, attending a funeral. Was any officer within range? Oh,
yes, there was a deputy sheriff somewhere about. After diligent
search, Doctor Hart succeeded in running down the deputy
sheriff, and announced that he had come to inspect the jail.
The deputy sheriff said he would get the key. He felt in one
pocket after another, and at last announced, with some trace of
annoyance, that he could not find the key. For a moment he stood
silent and meditating, until at last a bright thought seemed to
occur to him. “Wait a moment,” he said, and disappeared into the
barn. Presently he returned with another man.
“This is one of the prisoners,” said the deputy. “I guess he has
the key.”
Accordingly, the prisoner dug the key out of a pocket and
ushered Doctor Hart into the prison.
On another occasion Doctor Hart visited a jail, and found it
apparently deserted. He could discover no sheriff, no jailer, no
deputy. A man was sweeping the sidewalk, and of him Doctor Hart
asked for news of the county officers. The man shook his head.
“I guess I’m the only prisoner here. The sheriff and the jailer
have gone out into the country on a picnic.”
“What are you in for?”
“Oh, for murder,” said the man, nonchalantly, and resumed his
sweeping.
Incredible as it may seem, this man was telling the truth, and
not long afterward he was tried and found guilty.
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