“But perhaps,” said I, “they did not know what the prisons were like.”

Dick seemed roused, and even angry.  “More shame for them,” said he, “when you and I know it all these years afterwards.  Look you, neighbour, they couldn’t fail to know what a disgrace a prison is to the Commonwealth at the best, and that their prisons were a good step on towards being at the worst.”

Quoth I: “But have you no prisons at all now?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt that I had made a mistake, for Dick flushed red and frowned, and the old man looked surprised and pained; and presently Dick said angrily, yet as if restraining himself somewhat—

“Man alive! how can you ask such a question?  Have I not told you that we know what a prison means by the undoubted evidence of really trustworthy books, helped out by our own imaginations?  And haven’t you specially called me to notice that the people about the roads and streets look happy? and how could they look happy if they knew that their neighbours were shut up in prison, while they bore such things quietly?  And if there were people in prison, you couldn’t hide it from folk, like you may an occasional man-slaying; because that isn’t done of set purpose, with a lot of people backing up the slayer in cold blood, as this prison business is.  Prisons, indeed!  O no, no, no!”

He stopped, and began to cool down, and said in a kind voice: “But forgive me!  I needn’t be so hot about it, since there are not any prisons: I’m afraid you will think the worse of me for losing my temper.  Of course, you, coming from the outlands, cannot be expected to know about these things.  And now I’m afraid I have made you feel unc