These extracts, which are given verbatim, throw interesting sidelights upon the attitude and state of mind of the prisoners--their extreme sensitiveness, their instant response to kindness, real or fancied, their relations to their keepers, their ready cheerfulness and sense of humor. As one can see, there was arising among them at the very outset something quite unexpected--a deep sense of gratitude for what they persisted in thinking a great sacrifice on my part; an eager answer to the sympathy from the outer world which my coming among them typified. The lump in the throat at the first sight of Tom Brown clad as a convict is significant of many things. The fact that they all greatly exaggerated my personal discomfort and in so many ways gave me credit where none was due, is only an evidence of their hunger for the human relationship, for that sympathy from our fellowmen which we all crave so intensely, and from which convicts are very far from exempt. There is no need to comment further upon these interesting extracts. It is a real pity that we can not have as well the views of the third party in the affair--the keepers. Frank comment from them would be also most valuable. I only hope that the one who, on a certain occasion, invited and came very near receiving, personal violence by ejaculating, "Damn fool!" behind my back, represented an exception. Unquestionably, however, he did voice a considerable amount of official sentiment within the prison, as well as much unofficial sentiment outside. That was so natural as to be inevitable. There are always those who will misunderstand one's motives and actions, no matter how plain the explanation may be. CHAPTER IV MONDAY AFTERNOON Later in the day; about 5:30, I think; I have no watch and nowhere does there seem to be a clock in sight, so I am necessarily rather vague as to the exact time. I am again double locked in my cell, this time for the night--fourteen mortal hours. For me there is plenty to do--to write, to read, to think about; but how about those who do not care for reading, who write with difficulty, or who can neither read nor write? Then again, I look forward to only six nights in this stone vault; but how about those who must look forward to an endless series of nights, month after month, year after year, five, ten, fifteen, twenty years, life? My God! How do they ever stand it?