As Luck Would Have It by Edward Dyson

Meanwhile Bob Holland was busy working out his own salvation. Progress was slow, but it was continuous, and the effort was a good thing for the prisoner: mind and hand were occupied. He worked, ate, and slept, and had little time for gloomy introspection. Hope was aglow in his heart. He was almost happy.

There appeared a marked improvement in the quality of his food; he was well supplied with books. He found a certain judgment used in the selection of the latter. Daily and weekly papers came down in the basket, and he formed a good idea of the date, and the length of his stay in the drive. A quantity of writing paper and pens and ink were provided. This gave Bob a hint of the giver. Who but Miriam would think of the possibility of his giving his time up to literary labor? Scissors and razor were denied him, however, and Bob was now profusely bewhiskered, and his hair was creeping down his back. He might have given a lively impersonation of the wild man of the woods, without the assistance of "make-up" or accessories, for his clothing was badly worn as a result of his labor, and had taken on the color of his surroundings.