ne, but
Bassanio's appeal to Shylock was not more futile than mine to him. The
words and gesture with which my suppliant attitude was spurned, roused
all the manhood in me, and for an instant I felt as if I were a free
man and addressing my equal, and in language at once dignified and
firm, I requested a sheet of paper that I might appeal to the Board of
Directors. My altered mien and tone of voice, so unexpected, so unusual
in that secret court, arrested him; his hand trembled, he looked as
Felix might have done when he first heard of "righteousness, temperance
and judgment to come." My request was granted, and my last interview
with a prison director had come and gone. Two days afterwards I wrote a
letter to the board of directors, in suitable language, and addressed
to the chairman of the board, preferring my request. Month after month
passed away, but I waited for a reply in vain. At one time I would have
felt both surprised and annoyed that no notice had been taken of my
letter, but now I knew that I had only experienced the usual treatment
which prisoners receive who have justice on their side. I had now made
three, and only three requests to the officials during my prison
career, and all these had been denied, and I resolved to prefer no
more. I gave my mind healthy exercise in the composition of verses,
when I was not otherwise employed, and to a great extent forgot my
troubles in my puny flight to obtain a sight of the poets' mountain.

The last year of my imprisonment was marked by the arrival of a number
of Fenians, and the departure for freedom of one or two of the very few
prisoners whose society had been a pleasure to me. One of these had
been the editor and proprietor of an influential country newspaper, and
his crime was very similar to my own. He was a man of deep thought, and
far, very far, from being a criminal at heart. He was the best educated
man I met with in prison, and eminently qualified for writing a
treatise on the prevention of crime. The other had been in business in
London, and had brought up a large and respectable family. Having been
accustomed to mix in the society of some of the most eminent of the
city merchants and bankers, his company in such a place as a prison was
a great acquisition. After the departure of these two prisoners I had
only one intimate and intelligent companion left. His case excited my
sympathy, inasmuch as he was a very humble and penitent man, with a
sentence of