ecret, why
Some live long, and others early die;
For Life depends on Light, and Light on God,
Who hath given to Man the perfect knowledge
That Grim Despair and Sorrow end in Light
And Life everlasting, in realms
Where darkest Darkness becomes Light;
But not the Light Man knows,
Which only is Light
Because God told Man so.

These verses, which breathe religion, were written in an environment
which was anything but religious. With curses of ward-mates ringing in
my ears, some subconscious part of me seemed to force me to write at
its dictation. I was far from being in a pious frame of mind myself,
and the quality of my thought surprised me then--as it does now.

XXV

Though I continued to respect my clothes, I did not at once cease to
tear such material as would serve me in my scientific investigations.
Gravity being conquered, it was inevitable that I should devote some of
my time to the invention of a flying-machine. This was soon
perfected--in my mind; and all I needed, that I might test the device,
was my liberty. As usual I was unable to explain how I should produce
the result which I so confidently foretold. But I believed and
proclaimed that I should, erelong, fly to St. Louis and claim and
receive the one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward offered by the
Commission of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition for the most efficient
airship to be exhibited. The moment the thought winged its way through
my mind, I had not only a flying-machine, but a fortune in the bank.
Being where I could not dissipate my riches, I became a lavish verbal
spender. I was in a mood to buy anything, and I whiled away many an
hour planning what I should do with my fortune. The St. Louis prize was
a paltry trifle. I reasoned that the man who could harness gravity had
at his beck and call the world and all that therein is. This sudden
accession of wealth made my vast humanitarian projects seem only the
more feasible. What could be more delightful, I thought, than the
furnishing and financing of ideas of a magnitude to stagger humanity.
My condition was one of ecstatic suspense. Give me my liberty and I
would show a sleepy old world what could be done to improve conditions,
not only among the insane, but along every line of beneficent endeavor.

The city of my birth was to be made a garden-spot. All defiling,
smoke-begriming factories were to be banished to an innocuous distance.
Churches were to gi