His best place, perhaps, is there. He is
protected against himself, and society has no other way of taking
care of him.
Near him sits a young boy in his teens. His face is intelligent;
he is not a born criminal. He is above the average in
intelligence, and in him there are all possibilities of success
and usefulness.
A boyish piece of criminal foolishness brought him there--and he
must now spend years degenerating into real criminality under the
influences around him.
There are the two extreme samples of humanity in that cage which
we build to protect ourselves against ourselves.
It is a dismal garden set apart for human weeds and in it many a
good plant is hopelessly driven into the weed class.
Of the men in that prison may truly be said what a great student
of plant life--Luther Burbank-- says of the poor weeds that we
despise among plants:
There is not one weed or flower, wild or domesticated, which
will not, sooner or later, respond liberally to good cultivation
and persistent selection. * * * Weeds are weeds because they are
jostled, crowded, cropped and trampled upon, scorched by fierce
heat, starved, or, perhaps, suffering with cold, wet feet,
tormented by insect pests or lack of nourishing food and
sunshine.
Most of them have no opportunity for blossoming out in luxurious
beauty and abundance.
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