"How many times when a lad, with wondering eyes, and a heart stirred with childhood's pure sympathy, I had watched the poor waifs from time to time led within its doors. It was my turn now. I entered the charge room, and with business-like precision disclosed my errand, viz. that I wished to surrender myself for having committed a felony. My story was doubted. Question followed question, and confirmation must be waited. 'Why had I surrendered?' 'I was a rum'un.' 'Cracked.' 'More fool than rogue.' 'He will be sorry when he mounts the wheel.' These and such like remarks were handed round concerning me. An hour passed by. An inspector enters, and announces the receipt of a telegram. 'It is all right. You can put him down.' And turning to me, he said, 'They will send for you on Monday,' and then I passed into the inner ward, and a cell. The door closed with a harsh, grating clang, and I was left to face the most clamorous accuser of all-- my own interior self' "Monday morning, the door opened, and a complacent detective stood before me. Who can tell the feeling as the handcuffs closed round my wrists, and we started for town. As again the charge was entered, and the passing of another night in the cell; then the morning of the day arrived. The gruff, harsh 'Come on' of the gaoler roused me, and the next moment I found myself in the prison van, gazing through the crevices of the floor, watching the stones flying as it were from beneath our feet. Soon the court-house was reached, and hustled into a common cell, I found myself amongst a crowd of boys and men, all bound for the 'dock.' One by one the names are called, and the crowd is gradually thinning down, when the announcement of my own name fell on my startled ear, and I found myself stumbling up the stairs, and finding myself in daylight and the 'dock.' What a terrible ordeal it was. The ceremony was brief enough; 'Have you anything to say?' 'Don't interrupt his Worship; prisoner!' 'Give over talking!' 'A month's hard labour.' This is about all I heard, or at any rate realised, until a vigorous push landed me into the presence of the officer who booked the sentence, and then off I went to gaol. I need not linger over the formalities of the reception. A nightmare seemed to have settled upon me as I passed into the interior of the correctional. "I resigned my name, and I seemed to die to myself for henceforth. 332B disclosed my identity to myself and others. "Through all the weeks that followed I was like one in a dream. Meal times, resting hours, as did every other thing, came with clock-like precision. At times I thought my mind had gone--so dull, so callous, so weary appeared the organs of the brain. The harsh orders of the gaolers; the droning of the chaplain in the chapel; the enquiries of the chief warder or the governor in their periodical visits,--all seemed so meaningless.