It was the total absence of classification of prisoners, and the resulting mixing together of hardened criminals and young boys, to which attention is mainly called here. From morning till night the "old hands" in crime were exchanging stories of their exploits, while the younger prisoners sat about them with open mouths and eyes of wonder, greedily taking in every syllable. I listened just as intently as anybody, and was hugely impressed with what I heard and saw. The seriousness of my offense advanced me somewhat in the scale of the youthful prisoners, and at times I was allowed to join a "private" confab, supposed to be only for the long initiated and thoroughly tried offenders. This privilege, and the general tone of "toughness" which was all over the prison, had its effect on me, I am sorry to say, and I began to bluster and bluff with the rest. Indeed, so determined was I to be the "real thing" or nothing at all--almost entirely the result of association with the older men--that I was at first unwilling that my lawyer should try to secure a reform-school sentence for me. "If I'm to be sentenced at all," I ordered, "let it be to prison proper. I don't want to associate with a lot of kids." Fortunately, my lawyer did not follow my suggestion. Meanwhile, Sentence Day, that momentous time, which all prisoners await with painful uncertainty, was drawing nigh. Trials, of course, were to come first, but practically every court prisoner knew that he had been caught "with the goods on," and that Sentence Day would claim him for her prey. My trial was soon over. My lawyer had "worked" very adroitly, and I received sentence immediately--_the reform school until I had improved_. I remember feeling very sheepish when I was taken back to the jail; such a sentence was meant for a baby, I thought, and what would the "old hands" think? They came to the door in a body when I was brought back, demanding in a chorus: "How much, Kid?" "A year," I romanced, meaning, of course, in the penitentiary, and faking an old-timer's smile and nonchalance. Later they were told the truth, and then began a course of instruction about "beating the Ref," escaping, to which I paid very close attention.