Conscience did not seem to be utterly powerless within him, for his eyes would not meet mine, they remained fixed on the desk before him; but his head shook, and his lips muttered, "No." I pleaded for a moment in beseeching tones which might have softened a heart of stone, but Bassanio's appeal to Shylock was not more futile than mine to him. The words and gesture with which my suppliant attitude was spurned, roused all the manhood in me, and for an instant I felt as if I were a free man and addressing my equal, and in language at once dignified and firm, I requested a sheet of paper that I might appeal to the Board of Directors. My altered mien and tone of voice, so unexpected, so unusual in that secret court, arrested him; his hand trembled, he looked as Felix might have done when he first heard of "righteousness, temperance and judgment to come." My request was granted, and my last interview with a prison director had come and gone. Two days afterwards I wrote a letter to the board of directors, in suitable language, and addressed to the chairman of the board, preferring my request. Month after month passed away, but I waited for a reply in vain. At one time I would have felt both surprised and annoyed that no notice had been taken of my letter, but now I knew that I had only experienced the usual treatment which prisoners receive who have justice on their side. I had now made three, and only three requests to the officials during my prison career, and all these had been denied, and I resolved to prefer no more. I gave my mind healthy exercise in the composition of verses, when I was not otherwise employed, and to a great extent forgot my troubles in my puny flight to obtain a sight of the poets' mountain.