A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

on a gallows.

Here and there, lonesome prisoners had eased the heavy time

by altering the records left by predecessors. Leaving the

name standing, and the date and length of the captivity,

they had erased the description of the misdemeanor,

and written in its place, in staring capitals, “FOR THEFT!”

or “FOR MURDER!” or some other gaudy crime. In one place,

all by itself, stood this blood-curdling word:

“Rache!” [1]

1. “Revenge!”

There was no name signed, and no date. It was an

inscription well calculated to pique curiosity.

One would greatly like to know the nature of the wrong

that had been done, and what sort of vengeance was wanted,

and whether the prisoner ever achieved it or not.

But there was no way of finding out these things.

Occasionally, a name was followed simply by the remark,

“II days, for disturbing the peace,” and without comment

upon the justice or injustice of the sentence.

In one place was a hilarious picture of a student of the

green cap corps with a bottle of champagne in each hand;

and below was the legend: “These make an evil fate endurable.”

There were two prison cells, and neither had space left on

walls or ceiling for another name or portrait or picture.

The inside surfaces of the two doors were completely

covered with CARTES DE VISITE of former prisoners,

ingeniously let into the wood and protected from dirt

and injury by glass.

I very much wanted one of the sorry old tables which

the prisoners had spent so many years in ornamenting

with their pocket-knives, but red tape was in the way.

The custodian could not sell one without an order from

a superior; and that superior would have to get it from

HIS superior; and this one would have to get it from

a higher one–and so on up and up until the faculty

should sit on the matter and deliver final judgment.

The system was right, and nobody could find fault with it;

but it did not seem justifiable to bother so many people,

so I proceeded no further. It might have cost me more than

I could afford, anyway; for one of those prison tables,

which was at the time in a private museum in Heidelberg,

was afterward sold at auction for two hundred and fifty dollars.

It was not worth more than a dollar, or possibly a dollar

and half, before the captive students began their work

on it. Persons who saw it at the auction said it was

so curiously and wonderfully carved that it was worth

the money that was paid for it.

Among them many who have tasted the college prison’s

dreary hospitality was a lively young fellow from one

of the Southern states of America, whose first year’s

experience of German university life was rather peculiar.

The day he arrived in Heidelberg he enrolled his name

on the college books, and was so elated with the fact

that his dearest hope had found fruition and he was

actually a student of the old and renowned university,

that he set to work that very night to celebrate the event

by a grand lark in company with some other students.

In the course of his lark he managed to make a wide

breach in one of the university’s most stringent laws.

Sequel: before noon, next day, he was in the college

prison–booked for three months. The twelve long weeks

dragged slowly by, and the day of deliverance came at last.

A great crowd of sympathizing fellow-students received

him with a rousing demonstration as he came forth,

and of course there was another grand lark–in the course

of which he managed to make a wide breach of the CITY’S

most stringent laws. Sequel: before noon, next day,

he was safe in the city lockup–booked for three months.

This second tedious captivity drew to an end in the course

of time, and again a great crowd of sympathizing fellow

students gave him a rousing reception as he came forth;

but his delight in his freedom was so boundless that he

could not proceed soberly and calmly, but must go hopping

and skipping and jumping down the sleety street from sheer

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