which is seen and that which is conceived, based on the strict
laws of logical reasoning. And instead of rejoicing, I exclaimed in an
outburst of naive, juvenile despair: "Where, then, is the truth? Where
is the truth in this world of phantoms and falsehood?" (See my "Diary of
a Prisoner" of June 29, 18--.)

I know that at the present time, when I have but five or six more years
to live, I could easily secure my pardon if I but asked for it. But
aside from my being accustomed to the prison and for several other
important reasons, of which I shall speak later, I simply have no right
to ask for pardon, and thus break the force and natural course of the
lawful and entirely justified verdict. Nor would I want to hear people
apply to me the words, "a victim of judicial error," as some of my
gentle visitors expressed themselves, to my sorrow. I repeat, there was
no error, nor could there be any error in a case in which a combination
of definite circumstances inevitably lead a normally constructed and
developed mind to the one and only conclusion.

I was convicted justly, although I did not commit the crime--such is the
simple and clear truth, and I live joyously and peacefully my last few
years on earth with a sense of respect for this truth.

The only purpose by which I was guided in writing these modest notes is
to show to my indulgent reader that under the most painful conditions,
where it would seem that there remains no room for hope or life--a human
being, a being of the highest order, possessing a mind and a will,
finds both hope and life. I want to show how a human being, condemned to
death, looked with free eyes upon the world, through the grated window
of his prison, and discovered the great purpose, harmony, and beauty of
the universe--to the disgrace of those fools who, being free, living a
life of plenty and happiness, slander life disgustingly.

Some of my visitors reproach me for being "haughty"; they ask me where I
secured the right to teach and to preach; cruel in their reasoning, they
would like to drive away even the smile from the face of the man who has
been imprisoned for life as a murderer.

No. Just as the kind and bright smile will not leave my lips, as an
evidence of a clear and unstained conscience, so my soul will never be
darkened, my soul, which has passed firmly through the defiles of life,
which has been carried by a mighty will power across these terrible
abysses and bottomless pits, wher