tainly agree with me that reaching a resting
place eight hundred feet under the surface I had found the lowest round
of the ladder. Whatever I may be in the future, to whatever heights
I may ascend, I shall not forget that my starting point was nearly a
thousand feet under the Kansas penitentiary. Water seeks its level. You
may force one below the surface, and to whatever depth you please, to
the extent of your power, but if he does not belong there, you cannot
keep him down: in the course of time he will rise.

It was six long, dreary months before I was able to reach the first
round in the ladder. Through that period I lay in the penitentiary
mines, or at the bottom of "The Kansas Hell." It is said the old
fashioned Hell has fire and brimstone; while the "Kansas Hell" has no
fire, one thing is certain, it has plenty of material out of which to
make it, and an abundant supply of sulphur.

At the end of my descent I found an officer there on duty. He told me
to step off and occupy a seat on a small bench near by. He desired
to impart some information. He advised me that while I was there, a
convict, it would not be proper to assume the warden's privileges or
endeavor to discharge his duties. In other words, the best thing to do
was to keep my place, revolve about in my own orbit, carefully regarding
all laws, both centripetal and centrifugal; otherwise, I might burst by
the natural pressure of too highly confined interior forces! I confess
that, though not subject to such infliction, I very nearly fainted over
these ponderous polysyllables! He also informed me that the beautifully
paved highway to popularity in the coal mines was to excavate large
quantities of the carboniferous substance contained in the subterranean
passages of the mine; the more coal I got out the more popular would I
be!

After his lecture was over the officer gave a low whistle, and out from
a dark recess there emerged a convict in his stripes. His face and hands
were covered with coal dust. He came out grinning, showing his white
teeth. As I caught sight of him I thought, surely, this is a fiend from
the lower regions. Take one of those prisoners with his striped clothes,
a light burning on his head, his face black and shining like ebony,
behold him in the weird darkness of the mines, and if he does not call
to your mind the picture of one of the imps of Eternal Night there
is nothing in this world that will. This prisoner was the runner or
mes