Mr. Ramsey was released on November 24. He was welcomed at the
prison gates by a crowd of sympathisers, and entertained at a
breakfast in the Hall of Science, where he made an interesting speech.
By a whimsical calculation, I reckoned that I had still to swallow
twenty-one gallons of prison tea and twelve prison sermons.
Christmas Day was the only variation in the remainder of my "term."
Being regarded as a Sabbath, it was a day of idleness. The fibre
was removed from my cell, my apartment was clean and tidy, a bit
of dubbin gave an air of newness to my old shoes, and after a good
wash and an energetic use of my three-inch comb, I was ready for
the festivities of the season. After a sumptuous breakfast on dry
bread, and sweet water misnamed tea, I took a walk in the yard; and
on returning to my cell I sat down and wondered how my poor wife
was spending the auspicious day. What a "merry Christmas" for a
woman whose husband was eating his heart out in gaol! The chapel-bell
roused me from phantasy. While the other half of the prison was
engaged in "devotion," I did an hour's grinding at Italian, and read
a chapter of Gibbon; after which I heard the "miserable sinners"
return from the chapel to their cells.
My Christmas dinner consisted of the usual diet, and after eating
it I went for another brief tramp in the yard. The officers seemed
to relax their usual rigor, and many of the prisoners exchanged greetings.
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