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prison clothes: “a moleskin jacket and vest and a stock of the same for the neck, stamped all over with broad arrows.” He was also provided with a moleskin bonnet with his prison number on it. His underclothes were said to be a “pair of drawers, cotton or plaiding, the latter in winter.” His shirt was of unbleached cotton in summer and plaiding in winter. The uniform in Peterhead was similar though a coat was provided and a red shirt.
    The diet in Perth was described in some detail and it was said that in Peterhead the food was slightly better. For breakfast in Perth there was 8oz of oatmeal made into porridge and three-fourths of a pint of milk. For dinner there was two pints of barley broth, which “is made of ox heads and haugh, suet and vegetables,” and three-fourths of a pound of wheaten bread. Supper was 2lb of potatoes, or porridge in lieu. The Peterhead table d’hote was similar except with – not surprisingly considering the location – an occasional helping of fresh fish.
    Entertainment there was none. A twenty-minute visit every four months was allowed and receiving and sending a letter again every four months was permitted. It was a very hard regime.
    The newspaper went on to inform its curious readers that the convicts worked in the quarry or the breakwater and that they were supervised by warders and backed up by civil guards with carbines. These officers were said to “take up a position of advantage covering the convicts.” Escape or mutiny seemed unlikely, especially since the cons worked wearing leg irons with several pounds of lead attached to their feet. This was described with considerable understatement as a “safeguard” against trouble. In a further horrifying description of the convict’s life in the nineteenth century, the writer went on to explain that if for weather or other reasons the cons could not work as normal in the quarries or breakwaters they were put on some sort of machine called “the crash” which had to be manually turned 14,500 times a day every day except Saturday when it was reduced to 10,000 turns. There were no hi-tech gyms around these days but no doubt “the crash” would keep the cons in good physical shape. The author also mentioned one other nice little touch in the prison regime – once you had served the appropriate time the moleskins could be replaced by serge.
    About the same time of the Laurie escape incident it is interesting, if not surprising, to note that the punishing conditions in the jail were becoming too much for some of the convicts. Any real chance of escape was negligible and years of misery stretched ahead for most of the cons who were on long sentences, and many a mile from their homes and relatives. No TV in cells, no snooker leagues, no gym, no recreation and seriously bad food in a difficult climate. Little wonder thoughts turned to suicide. Even that was difficult, with the guards constantly watching their charges.
    One man in 1893 was so desperate to end it all that he took the almost unthinkable way out of drinking red lead paint when working in the prison yard. He had been sent back into the jail on an errand for a warder and on his return he spotted a pot of the paint lying handy. Before his keepers could stop him, he grabbed it and swallowed around a quart of the fluid before the poison was snatched from him. Medical help was immediately given and a report on the incident made a point that is not too difficult to understand or to be horrified that “the large quantity of poisonous matter taken greatly helped to effect its own cure.” It would certainly have been difficult to keep such an unpleasant substance down. The desperate man survived in the prison hospital in a “weak but not dangerous” condition.
    The day before this drama there had been some excitement at the quarry at Stirling Hill, where a work party had been taken on the little private train from the prison. There does not seem to have been much trouble down