The influence of a punishment, almost too great for human nature to
bear, had destroyed this man's health, and thrown him into a decline
from which his friends had little hope of his recovery. His labor was
at shoe-making, an employment very weakening to the breast, where his
complaint was seated. Not being able to perform his task, his only
alternative was to stay in his room, and live on gruel or bread and
crust coffee, which he did whenever his complaint rendered it
necessary. This was by no means pleasing to his keepers, and every
effort was made to confine him to his shoe bench. The most conspicuous
agent in this conspiracy against the peace of a sick man was the
Warden. Availing himself of his authority, he called at C's room and
desired him to walk out, which he did; then conducting him to the door
of one of the solitary cells, he said--"C. you are not sick, and I am
going to give you a choice of two things,--take that handkerchief from
your head, and go to your work, and live like the other prisoners, or
go into this cell and _die_."
In the spirit of a christian, he obeyed the command of his unfeeling
tormentor, and repaired to his work. His case created him friends who
procured him medicine, and changed his employment, so that he was
enabled to comply with all demands, and thus he outlived the tyrant's
rage. He is now, if living, in the bosom of his friends, enjoying the
sweets of liberty, and possessing the confidence of the church as a
faithful minister of the gospel.