On Monday, a little after 10 A. M., a man passed through the front gate, and without any ceremony was registered on the book of entries as Tom Brown and recorded as No. 33,333x. After a brief examination he was conducted to the tailor-shop where the cutaway was changed for a suit of prison gray. The funds of Mr. Brown being at low ebb, the state graciously presented him with a towel, a pair of working shoes, and a red bandanna handkerchief.[4] With these meager possessions Tom again emerged into the large yard; and the old adage, "What a difference just a few clothes make," became very evident, for in every appearance he looked just like the brotherhood he was about to join. When a new man enters, a general whisper is always heard throughout the various shops. "Well, here's a new boarder!" This was applied to him as he passed through the yard accompanied by Captain D. We all knew who Tom was, but on the Sunday previous when he outlined his intentions a silent compact had been made--to consider him as an ordinary inmate; and the promise was fulfilled to the letter. What our thoughts were--is an entirely different story. B's account is somewhat more racy and intimate, and contains some very characteristic touches: A few comments in the cell house on the day of Tom Brown's arrival at Auburn Prison to start his self-imposed bit. "Hello, Bill! There he goes. And say, he just walks with the confidence of an old timer! Well, old pals, you will have to take your hats off to him as a game one, all right!" By this time all the keepers in the cell house looking through the windows. But not with that same old smile they usually carry. Someone sung in a low tone that old time melody, "O what has changed them?" and the gang had to take to cover; a look from some of the sore keepers made it plain we better move. While he was down getting dolled up in his new suit of gray, someone asked where the P. K. was; and Jack replied, "Why, he just passed me over in the alley; and say, fellows, he has got so thin I didn't know him; I guess you'll find him over in the jail office hiding behind a broom." Someone gave us the wire that Tom was coming up the yard again, and we made a bee line for a rubber. Sure enough there is Tom, coming up the line in his new college makeup and a prison towel in his hand. All the boys stood quiet and watched. In fact nine out of ten had a lump in his throat too big to swallow. I must confess I got a cold chill that ran down my back, and it jumped from limb to limb like a cobblestone. Well, after we all came to, "our brave Tom" was locked in his cell, 15-2-N.N.W.; and then the stoolpigeons was put to work to watch who went to speak with him.