Oh, what a terrible thing it is to be accused of a crime so great as that and be innocent! A new trial was denied me. What was I to do? God knows I was innocent, but I could not make men believe so here on this earth. The day for the journey to the penitentiary was at hand, and I must go for another’s crime. As the turnkey called us from our little, dark cells he said: “Please get ready, for we will have to take the morning train to your home—for some of you a home for some time to come.” That included me; that meant a home for ten years—and innocent! I had no appetite that morning, for I was thinking of the injustice done to many innocent men, and I was one of them. We were locked together—shackled—and started away to prison. On arrival we were listed for different crimes. A murderer, numbered 78! And the worst, I thought, was when they cut and shaved my head of hair. Then I was told to don my new suit of stripes and checks. That alone was enough to make any man falter. “This way,” I heard a gruff voice say. I looked for someone to look and in a second I felt the strong arm. “To you I am speaking. I want to show you your cell.” I had not recovered from the shock of my garments. I was shoved headlong into my cell, dark, and oh, so dreary! Anyone who could experience my feelings at that moment would never commit a crime. I can not say that I rested well on my new bed that night. I thought that morning would never come. Yet I do not know why I should have longed for day, as I had so long a time to stay. At last breakfast was served—or, rather, thrown at us. I was feverish and excited. All the time I wondered what my work would be. I did not have to wonder long. I was unlocked from my cell and told to step out and fall in line. I did so and onward we marched. A halt was called and I was told to step aside. A very important man, called guard, said: “You are wanted here, sir!” I stepped aside and was shown my work, which was hard, even harder than anything I had ever done. I was told to pick up the sledge and was shown in what shape to hammer the iron. I hesitated, and finally said: “My God! man, I never did such hard work, and I don’t think I can do this.” All the sympathy I received was: “You do the work or you will be thrown into a dark dungeon to decide if you can, and you will get bread and water until you do decide.” I thought that I would as soon go into a dungeon as to work myself to death. However, I changed my mind and picked up the sledge, but I had not strength to wield it. I fell upon my knees and prayed that God would give me help. While I was praying the guard came up and with his monstrous club gave me one blow, knocking me senseless. I cried out as I came to my senses: “Man alive, do not strike me again! Can you not see I am not strong enough to do that work?” “Oh! you fellows all have the same old gag to tell. Not strong enough! Ha, ha! But you are strong enough to strangle a poor woman to death.”