“_Let them tie you as often as they will. I shall free you. You are innocent, and shall not be punished._” I looked for the one whose voice I heard, and, to my surprise, could not see anyone. I shuddered. I did not understand this. I had drunk my coffee, and was feeling somewhat better from its effect and that of the kind words, when the superintendent entered with others. As I arose to greet them I was drawn back by some invisible power. Remaining seated, I was told to arise. I could not do so, and replied that I could not. One of the gentlemen seized my arm and told me to stand up. I tried to do so, and could not. I was taken hold of by another and told to stand, but again I could not. Then they tried to lift me up, and they could not move me. I became alarmed. I did not feel ill—only slightly dizzy. They debated as to what they should do about my case. I could not understand such a mystery. I only knew that I was freed, by whom I could not tell. The mystery was growing in my mind. As I was sent for by the doctor, whom they called in to diagnose my case, I arose without effort, to the surprise of the guard, and walked unassisted to the office. There I confronted the doctor, apparently a well man, on my feet, and feeling well anyway. I was thoroughly examined, and pronounced physically well. Once more I was taken back to “the carpet,” and was told that I would be given lighter work, and to try not to be subject to any such treatment hereafter, as disobedient prisoners have to be compelled to work. I was taken to the library, and told to book out all literature, as called for. I became very much interested in the work and was trying to make the best of it. I thought: “I am going to see if I can find some literature in here which will comfort me and help me to pass this long time which I must spend inside of these prison walls.” I had an order for a book called “The Ghost of a Woman.” Ghost of a woman! I wondered if the prisoner who ordered it had seen the ghost of this woman talked of in this place and hoped to find a book telling what her mission is here, I thought: “I too should like to know.” As I was tracing along the line of literature I was confronted with a book entitled “The Wisdom.” What could that be? We all needed some of that, I especially. If I had had more, I would not be here. “As it is, I am here,” I thought, “and I am willing to find wisdom.” I laid the book aside to take along with me to my cell to read when I should have the opportunity. I then continued the search for “The Ghost of a Woman.” As the guard entered he said: “Well, you are not making much headway getting out those orders.” “I have an order here for a book entitled ‘The Ghost of a Woman.’”