good, so we'll try the other."

"I think your present plan is better," says the Warden. "I should hate to
have you tell me what you really think of us. Well, that ought to work out
all right. Now how long do you say you want to stay there?"

"Well, I don't know that I'm anxious to stay any longer than just to get a
good idea of what the place is like. I want to feel the flavor of it. But
if I should be down there alone, it won't be very exciting. Suppose I go
down about four o'clock; and Dan can come down and let me out about eight,
or half-past seven, or say, seven. I think three hours will be a big
enough dose."

"I've ordered some clothes cleaned for you," says the Warden, "so those
are all right. Well, Dan," he adds, turning to Grant, "is everything
perfectly clear?"

Thus it is arranged. I say good-bye to the Warden; and tell him that the
Chaplain has asked me to say a few words to the men in chapel on Sunday.
The Warden thinks it a good idea, and adds that the details about my
leaving the prison can be arranged with Grant to-morrow. The general plan
is that I shall go out on Sunday, marching back with the men after the
chapel exercises. I can then take my belongings from the cell and go
quietly up to the Warden's quarters, where I can wash and dress.

Our plans being thus settled, my visitors depart. Now to bed to see if I
can get a good sleep in preparation for the most exciting part of my
exciting adventure.

It is curious how far I have fallen into the prison rut. In the evening I
find myself no longer thinking of my home or wondering what my family and
friends are doing, unless I make a conscious mental effort. The tendency
of this life is always to flatten one's thoughts, like one's actions, to a
gray uniformity--a deadening routine.

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, Saturd