F. Colburn (Francis Colburn) Adams
Chapter 39
"I have declared eternal hatred against that party; never pays its
cribbers!" Mingle scornfully retorts; and having lighted his pipe,
continues his pacing. "As for this jail," he mutters to himself,
"I've no great respect for it; but there is a wide difference
between a man who they put in here for sinning against himself, and
one who only violates a law of the State, passed in opposition to
popular opinion. However, you seem brightened up a few pegs, and,
only let whiskey alone, you may be something yet. Keep up an
acquaintance with the pump, and be civil to respectable prisoners,
that's all."
This admonition of the vote-cribber had a deeper effect on the
feelings of the inebriate than was indicated by his outward manner.
He had committed no crime, and yet he found himself among criminals
of every kind; and what was worse, they affected to look down upon
him. Had he reached a stage of degradation so low that even the
felon loathed his presence? Was he an outcast, stripped of every
means of reform-of making himself a man? Oh no! The knife of the
destroyer had plunged deep-disappointment had tortured his brain-he
was drawn deeper into the pool of misery by the fatal fascinations
of the house of Madame Flamingo, where, shunned by society, he had
sought relief-but there was yet one spark of pride lingering in his
heart. That spark the vote-cribber had touched; and with that spark
Tom resolved to kindle for himself a new existence. He had pledged
his honor to the young theologian; he would not violate it.
The old sailor, with elated feelings, and bearing in his hands a
bowl of coffee and two slices of toasted bread, is accosted by
several suspicious-looking prisoners, who have assembled in the
corridor for the purpose of scenting fresh air, with sundry
questions concerning the state of his pupil's health.
"He has had a rough night," the sailor answers, "but is now a bit
calm. In truth, he only wants a bit of good steering to get him into
smooth weather again." Thus satisfying the inquirers, he hurries up
stairs as the vote-cribber hurries down, and setting his offering on