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Saturday, June 20, 2009

'Trapped' in Newgate Prison!


This morning we drove to Suffield CT for a reporting assignment. After finishing a swath of photos and notes on the Suffield High School graduation, I decided we needed to visit a museum I'd long wanted to see: Old Newgate Prison.


As you can see from the pictures I ended up behind bars . . . as did my lovely bride (poor girl... I had to leave her there) (-:This was a fascinating trip. It brought to mind a lot of history I'd almost forgotten and renewed my interest in studying the American Revolution. The prizoners here had to endure brutal conditions. Below is a picture of the mine that the prizoners had to work. The only access to this place was a perpendicular shaft large enough for only one person to slip through at a time.
This last picture I took was a walk into the depths of the mine. There is a chamber at the end of this treacherous descent. The frame of a thick door is still visible as you pass inside. It is perhaps 3.5 to 4 feet high and chiseled out like a cave. That chamber was used for solitary confinement. I cannot imagine the torture of sitting alone, underground with cold water dripping on and around you in unending monotony. No wonder there was a mass breakout from this place.

2 comments:

J.R. Parker said...

Ha! Nothing says, "Honeymoon's over," like a day in prison.

√čarwen said...

Subtly, though,
Subtly is the way to go,
whether or not she is your bride,
whether she wants to be by your side,
nothing says 'the wrong decision'
like a honeymoon in prison.

Haha, that came out of nowhere =D

WELCOME TO THE WRITING SITE OF SCOTT APPLETON

"Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones." -Proverbs 16:24

In a world where morality is forsaken and Christ neglected, wholesome books are uncommon. The themes of my writing are love, self-sacrifice, and honor.

I see my generation turning from God to the gods of this world. I see homes torn apart in the pursuit of pleasure and self-gratification. Children are murdered by the millions every year . . . without ever seeing the world outside their mothers' wombs. Through fiction I strive to encourage those who are willing, to stand against these things and be heroes and heroines; chivalrous, gentle, full of righteous indignation, and the fear and love of their Creator.