es and bolts and bars. And as if the double-locked levers were not
enough, I noticed for the first time last night a triple lock. A long iron
bar drops down in front of all the cells on the tier; and against that
iron bar rest the ends of iron brackets projecting from the iron doors. So
that by merely unlocking and pressing down the levers you cannot be set
free; the long bar must be raised at the end of the gallery, where it is
fastened by another lock and special key. This discovery seems to put the
crowning touch to that desperate sensation of confinement. I already hate
the levers; I doubly hate the lock and big key; but no words can express
my detestation of that iron bar.

However, just before ten o'clock I did manage to lose consciousness; I
recall the time by the sounds of the nine-fifty New York Central train.
Even in the midst of my discomfort I had to smile at the plight of one who
has to tell time by trains on the Auburn branch of the New York Central.
I do not know how much I slept through the night, but I was greatly
disturbed by the frequent and pathetic coughing, sighing, and groaning
from other cells. It was only too evident that many others were sleeping
no better than I. Possibly the delicate attentions of the night keeper
going his rounds and flashing his electric bull's-eye through the bars
straight in our faces, may have had something to do with it. Certainly
that custom is hardly conducive to unbroken slumbers. Apparently, it is
considered necessary to do this in order to prevent suicides. One poor
fellow had tried to make away with himself on the previous night; such
attempts are not uncommon, I'm told.

Again--what a commentary!

As I had not yet quite reached the point of self-destruction, the
flashlight was distinctly annoying; it seemed always to come just after I
had succeeded in dropping off to sleep.

And ever, as I started awake again, the blackness of those horrible bars
against the faintly lighted corridor!

At last, through one of the upper windows in the outer wall, I detect the
faint gray light of the coming dawn. Each time I open my eyes and sit up
in bed the small piece of sky to be seen through the grated door of my
cell seems a shade less dark; and at last I begin to feel that, after all,
perhaps God has not forsaken the world. As the sky grows still brighter,
I can distinguish the green of the trees outside; and within, the
blackness and the shadows gradually fade away, and