Fathers hear how
the little ones have grown; sometimes, alas! how the little ones have
died. Small gifts of fruit or clothing are brought; but must be given
first into the hands of the jailers. Even flowers cannot be given from
loving hand to hand; for in the tiniest flower might be hidden the secret
poison which would give to the weary prisoner surest escape of all. All
day comes and goes the sad train of friends; lingering and turning back
after there is no more to be said; weeping when they meant and tried to
smile; more hungry for closer sight and voice, and for touch, with every
moment that they gaze through the bars; and going away, at last, with a
new sense of loss and separation, which time, with its merciful healing,
will hardly soften before the visiting-day will come again, and the same
heart-rending experience of mingled torture and joy will again be borne.
But to the prisoners these glimpses of friends' faces are like manna from
heaven. Their whole life, physical and mental, receives a new impetus from
them.
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