Another sign that I had better be getting away from this place: I am losing all respect for authority of every kind. It is a mistake to suppose that rigid discipline increases respect for authority; it usually does nothing of the sort. In this place it increases disrespect, for many reasons which it is unnecessary to mention here. Whatever the reasons, the fact is undeniable. I believe every man in this place hates and detests the system under which he lives. He hates it even when he gets along without friction. He hates it because he knows it is bad; for it tends to crush slowly but irresistibly the good in himself. CHAPTER XII SATURDAY In my cell, Saturday noon, October 4. This morning,--the morning of my last full day in prison,--dawns bright and sunny; a pleasant change from the dark, cloudy and oppressive weather we have been having. The routine of my day has become firmly established now; and I conform to it almost without thought. At six I arise. As I sleep in my one suit of underclothes, my dressing may be said to have already begun. I add my socks and the clumsy state shoes, which are on the chair close at hand. Then I am ready to stand upon the stone pavement of the cell. After this I gain space, and at the same time put my house in order, by hanging up mattress, pillow and blankets, and turning the iron bed up under them against the wall. Then I brush my teeth, wash my face and comb my hair. Then I finish dressing by putting on shirt, trousers, coat and cap. These and other necessary operations completed, I am ready for the day. In the midst of my toilet the electric light is switched on; so that the latter part has been accomplished with its aid. As I have dressed leisurely there is not very long to wait before I hear the clicking, which marks the unlocking of the levers, far around the corner to my left. Already, however, I have heard the tread of shuffling feet in the corridor below; and know that the first company has already started down the yard. All the familiar sounds,--the familiar routine,--seem to give me a sort of strange, new feeling on this last day. It seems so curious that something which now seems like the established order of the universe should ever have been unfamiliar, or that it should so soon come to an end--at least, so far as I am concerned. The levers click; the captain unlocks the cells; the long bar is raised; the doors are opened; the galleries are filled with hurrying figures carrying the heavy iron buckets; and my company forms at the foot of the stairs. What special reason there is for so much haste I have not yet discovered; but I presume that the officers put off their arrival at the prison to the very last moment, allowing the shortest possible time for the operations between their arrival and breakfast. The air and sunshine are pleasant and invigorating as we march down the yard and back, emptying and leaving the buckets as usual. Then to my cell where I sweep out and shut myself in.