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consciousness of evil. He did not think he was evil. As he saw it, he was merely unfortunate. To
think that he should be actually in this great, silent penitentiary, a convict, waiting here beside
this cheap iron bathtub, not very sweet or hygienic to contemplate, with this crackbrained
criminal to watch over him!
He stepped into the tub and washed himself briskly with the biting yellow soap, drying himself
on one of the rough, only partially bleached towels. He looked for his underwear, but there was
none. At this point the attendant looked in again. "Out here," he said, inconsiderately.
Cowperwood followed, naked. He was led through the receiving overseer's office into a room,
where were scales, implements of measurement, a record-book, etc. The attendant who stood
guard at the door now came over, and the clerk who sat in a corner automatically took down a
record-blank. Kendall surveyed Cowperwood's decidedly graceful figure, already inclining to a
slight thickening around the waist, and approved of it as superior to that of most who came
here. His skin, as he particularly noted, was especially white.
"Step on the scale," said the attendant, brusquely.
Cowperwood did so, The former adjusted the weights and scanned the record carefully.
"Weight, one hundred and seventy-five," he called. "Now step over here."
He indicated a spot in the side wall where was fastened in a thin slat--which ran from the floor to
about seven and one half feet above, perpendicularly--a small movable wooden indicator,
which, when a man was standing under it, could be pressed down on his head. At the side of
the slat were the total inches of height, laid off in halves, quarters, eighths, and so on, and to the
right a length measurement for the arm. Cowperwood understood what was wanted and
stepped under the indicator, standing quite straight.
"Feet level, back to the wall," urged the attendant. "So. Height, five feet nine and ten-
sixteenths," he called. The clerk in the corner noted it. He now produced a tape-measure and
began measuring Cowperwood's arms, legs, chest, waist, hips, etc. He called out the color of
his eyes, his hair, his mustache, and, looking into his mouth, exclaimed, "Teeth, all sound."
After Cowperwood had once more given his address, age, profession, whether he knew any
trade, etc.--which he did not--he was allowed to return to the bathroom, and put on the clothing
which the prison provided for him--first the rough, prickly underwear, then the cheap soft roll-
collar, white-cotton shirt, then the thick bluish-gray cotton socks of a quality such as he had
never worn in his life, and over these a pair of indescribable rough-leather clogs, which felt to
his feet as though they were made of wood or iron--oily and heavy. He then drew on the
shapeless, baggy trousers with their telltale stripes, and over his arms and chest the loose-cut
shapeless coat and waistcoat. He felt and knew of course that he looked very strange,
wretched. And as he stepped out into the overseer's room again he experienced a peculiar
sense of depression, a gone feeling which before this had not assailed him and which now he
did his best to conceal. This, then, was what society did to the criminal, he thought to himself. It
took him and tore away from his body and his life the habiliments of his proper state and left him
these. He felt sad and grim, and, try as he would--he could not help showing it for a moment. It
was always his business and his intention to conceal his real feelings, but now it was not quite
possible. He felt degraded, impossible, in these clothes, and he knew that he looked it.
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