“Without flattery I wish to say I was not a bad boy at this age. I attended school and like other boys, I cut up once in a while, but when my teacher sent word home to my mother recounting my pranks, she always punished me soundly for my conduct. After leaving the railroad company, my father went into a little town near New Haven, where he sunk sixty thousand dollars in what afterwards proved to be an unprofitable business. When I was fourteen years of age my grandfather died and left my mother ten thousand dollars. This money came like a god-send. Again my father started in business. This time it was keeping a hotel. It was not so successful as we had expected, but my father made a living out of it. When I was fifteen years old I left school and for a whole year simply spent my time loafing. I would not work. I mixed in with all kinds of company—mostly bad. I listened to men as they told how to commit crime and escape punishment. At first my conscience would scourge me for allowing myself to be in such company, but I would dismiss my fears by saying, ‘There is no harm in that as long as a fellow does not get caught.’ I was yet of tender years, although I felt I was at heart a degenerate. I can see now where I made the great mistake of my life. “I can see now that my mother was far too lenient with me, and should have punished me often for my mean ways, when she only admonished me with kind words. If I had known that I was to be punished for many of my youthful pranks, I certainly would not have repeated them. But I knew that I could impose on mother and make her prevent father from punishing me even when I deserved it. This made me reckless and daring, so I did not care what I did as long as I was not to be punished. I could steal a few pennies from my mother’s wallet, smash a pane of glass in anger, and steal the horse from the barn against my father’s will, and yet be immune from punishment. All this tended to make my downward career swift and sure. “On my bed at night I often thought of my mad and foolish ways. I knew I was doing wrong—sinning against light and deceiving my kind-hearted mother. It was not kindness I needed as much as a firm hand over me. I confess I suffered greatly from moral struggles within. I came from a good New England ancestry. My relatives were all respectable people. Why should I do anything that would bring disgrace upon my family? But I would not work. I preferred to be an indolent loafer than an industrious young man. Then the inward struggles would return to me again. I fought them to the death, continued to trample God’s laws under my feet and went on to do my own will. “I believe now that my unrestrained pranks led to my final criminality. I was now seventeen years of age. I was not a gambler, nor was I a drunkard or profane. But I positively refused to work. I spent my days loafing around the village in all kinds of company, getting trained for a downward career.