I was told on the following morning, by the guard, that I would have to leave the library and do some printing.

“Printing! Dear sakes alive, man, I am no printer!” I exclaimed.

“Those are the orders,” he replied. “Obey your orders.”

“I am very willing to do so if I knew how,” I said.

“I see that you have been reading a book, here, called ‘Wisdom.’ You should be able to do something.”

“If I had all the wisdom in my head that is in that book, I should not be here.”

“You are debating the question too long. Come along here, sir.”

I was taken to the printing quarters and given instructions as to what to do. To my surprise, the part to which I was assigned I could very easily handle. A prisoner said:

“I am here to give you instructions how to prepare what we call ‘The Daily Press’—news,[38] something for the prisoners to read, that they may know what goes on inside these walls that will be of benefit to them. We have some good men here. They are not all criminals because sent here. Some from misfortune, others from circumstantial evidence, which later is proven. I am always glad to see an innocent man found so. I am speaking in behalf of myself, here for another’s crime. To make the best of it is all that I can do, as do many others, who are here as innocent as I am.”

I could not speak. I felt as if I were choking with sympathy for that poor chap. I too was serving a sentence for another’s crime. I am not sure but that his number was on the order for a book entitled “I Am Innocent of Crime,” a book to be found on the shelves of the prison library.

I felt that I could work by the side of this fellow-man—this prisoner—more cheerfully, as he had authority to talk so as to be able to give instructions to inexperienced help.

I was told to prepare an article for The Press, on how to use power to control yourself as well as others. I was very willing to do what I could. That is all anyone can do—the best we can.

[39]

I have been in the presence of men to whom I could not talk as freely as I should like to, and in the presence of others to whom I could talk fast enough. Those to whom one can not talk freely have a higher power over one, and those to whom one can talk freely are the persons over whom one has power. Who has not had the power experience? When we come in touch with those with whom we can not talk freely, it is power over each other. I am leading out to the power we can not resist. What is that? I am able to say that I could not resist going into that house where a crime was committed to see what the trouble was with the poor lady who was murdered—murdered, and I accused of the crime!

I was wondering what my fellow-man under whose instructions I was placed was there for, and I became so deep in thought that I was spoken to by him:

“Well, you must have your work done for The Press, and time for the press to start is soon at hand.”

“I was so deep in thought I forgot myself, sir. I beg your pardon. I will try not to let that happen again.”

At that moment the guard stepped in. I[40] was accosted in such a brutal way that my fellow-prisoner interceded for me and asked the guard to have mercy on me.

“I am quite sure that the man will do all he can,” he said.

“Yes, he will when he is driven to it. He has caused us trouble from the day he landed here.”

“I am sorry, guard. If I could have complied with your rules and work, I should have been glad to do so; but I was not able to do the hard labor you asked me to do.”

“Was it hard work to strangle a poor woman to death? You found that a very easy job, did you not?”

“Man, I can not stand it to be accused of a crime I did not commit!” At that moment I gave way to my feelings and cried out: “O Father in Heaven, can not I prove my innocence?”

I found myself lying on my cot when revived. I knew not what had happened. I could remember the conversation and nothing more after that until the present time.

I was in a dazed condition and had the feeling that someone was near and could see me. I was taken back to the printer’s shop,[41] and must say that the instructor seemed to have a cold feeling for me. I said:

“I notice that you are not quite so friendly as before. Have I offended you?”

“I have no use for a murderer, sir, and especially for one who murders a helpless woman.”

“I say to you, kind fellow-prisoner, that I am innocent.”

“Yes. I have your reputation from the guard. Now, you get to hard work here, and no more of your pleading innocence.”

“I am going to do all that I can, sir, and as well as I can, to please you.”

I continued to prepare the press work. I wrote of the way to live and live right. We all make mistakes. Some repent, others never do. Who has not made mistakes which he would, if he could, undo? I wrote:

“O dear fellow-prisoners, we have all made mistakes. If we had not, we would not be here.”

As those words were for The Press, the prisoner’s daily paper, I thought them very appropriate. As I left for lunch I noticed the man who was so indifferent before. He stopped to see what my subject was. I could not help[42] but see a change in his manner toward me; he acted in a more brotherly way.

As I was locked in for the night I was tired and sick—heart-sick. I could not see, for the life of me, how I could stand many years of prison life. At last I closed my eyes for the night—a long, dark, dreaming one. When a child I ofttimes sat at my mother’s knee, before I was sent to bed, and was taught my prayers; to ask Our Father in Heaven to watch over me. The next day I knelt and prayed as I had long years ago for my dear old mother, and asked God to help me the following day.

Somehow I felt better after I prayed. Eight o’clock was the hour for work to begin, and I was somewhat encouraged that morning. I knew not why. Perhaps the kindness which was shown me by my fellow-prisoner the day before was what lightened my heart.

The day’s work had begun when I was spoken to by a gruff voice, and told that I was wanted at the office.

My heart was crushed. I thought perhaps I was to undergo some painful ordeal, as heretofore. I could not keep up courage to get to the office. I was trembling with fear when I[43] entered. I did not ask what I was wanted for. I felt that I should know soon enough.

Suddenly the officer looked up and smiled. I did not understand the meaning and remained silent. He then spoke as if I were a guest instead of a prisoner:

“Well, sir, I have some work for you to do. I want to find out who the lady is I see here and don’t see here, although I hear her voice, and she seems to be calling your name. Do you or can you explain the mystery?”

At that moment I could not speak. After a few moments, I tried to answer in this way:

“I am not able to give any information whatever. I know not whom you see or hear.”

“Well, sir, can you account for your mysterious freedom from the rack?”

“I am not able to do so.”

“Neither can I, and I sat there and watched you being untied. Did you ever hear your dear old friends tell of ghosts?”

“I hear this is a ghost doing this.”

“I am not able to say.”

“Neither am I.”

“Well, do you think you could find out if it were one?”

“I could not say.”

[44]

“I am going to have you remain in this office a few days and see if you can see what I do. I am not going to have you do anything, only look and listen.”

“Sir, I am not a coward, but I would prefer to work, as I am becoming used to hard labor and would like to keep busy.”

“I think you will find this job hard enough, and it will keep you busy enough—or, at least, I have been pretty busy holding myself in here. I feel I need my vacation now.”

What was I to do? I was trembling from head to foot, and looking on all sides of me for the ghost. Presently the door opened. I collapsed and was deathly faint, when I found it was only a man.

“I have made arrangements for the prisoner to remain here in the office with me. His place may be filled by another,” said the officer to the man.

“I am glad to stay in here with you,” I said. “What shall I do?” I trembled so that my voice quivered.

“Well, sir, I am going to let you take that comfortable chair and sit there for a time, while I am busy.”

I was seated presently. I felt my chair[45] move. I moved also, and I cried out: “I am going mad!” I was being moved in my chair.

“That is nothing, sir. You perhaps will be moved as often as I have been, and that is many times.”

I knew not what to do. I could not disobey orders, but felt that I could no longer remain there. While debating whether to sit down or stand up, I was confronted by the form of a woman.

I fell back and cried out: “Mother! mother! mother!”

When I became able to speak again, I told that it was my dear old mother, and I was asked to describe her, which I did.

“Well, there are two ghosts here, then,” said the officer; “for that is not the description of the one I saw.”

Was I to go through with another experience of seeing another ghost? I fell on my knees and begged to be sent back to the printing shop.

“You are doing more good here than any place in which I have placed you. I think you have a good, long job here—or, at least, until we find out what the mysterious lady wants around here.”

“I am glad to be with you, but you are not[46] giving me any punishment of hard labor, as the judge said you should.”

“Well, I don’t know. Perhaps you have not worked at this long enough to find the hard part of it.”

What should I say next to find some excuse to get away from there? I had thought of all excuses, and presently I began to feel sick, or pretended so. Oh, how I did moan! I did not create any sympathy. The officer informed me that he had to moan louder than that when they got after him.

I got well the next breath. What to try next I did not know. I could not break away from prison. Soon I heard footsteps. I looked, but could see no one. I asked the officer if he heard anything.

“Oh, yes, I hear them. You are not frightened, are you? Well, I have become used to them, and you will if you stay here a few days.”

“Man, I will die if I have to remain in this office another day!”

“I have felt as you do, and I have had the same experience ever since you came to this prison. And your name is repeated many times a day. Can you explain what all this means?”

“I am an innocent man charged with murder[47] done by another. I am not treated justly. That is all I can say or know. I do not know anything about these voices or mysterious women, but I am quite sure that I saw my dear old mother, as she was when living. I do not understand it. I am told that we never die. To explain further I am not able, but I do want to get out of this office. I feel strong enough to do any kind of hard work.”

“Well, sir, I am glad that we have found a way to make you work, and you may go back to hard labor.”

The guard was called and orders given to take the prisoner back to hard labor—not the printing shop, as he was willing to do hard work.

“You may try to lift some of those anvils which we have orders to ship. It requires three or four men to get them where we can load and ship.”

Could I do what required the strength of three or four men?

“You may come along here.”

As I was leaving for the shipping yards I felt that I was accompanied by others beside my guard, but I could see no one. Presently we confronted the place of shipping, and I was[48] shown what was to be done. I looked at the guard, and exclaimed:

“Man, do you expect me to load those heavy irons on the truck?”

“I do.”

“Well, I do not think that your expectations will be granted. I am not a giant, and neither am I a myth. I am only a man, as you are.”

“I did not bring you over here to argue that question. What you must do is do the best that you can and try to load up.”

“I will not disobey orders, but I do not see or understand why I should be asked to do such hard work—why the work of two or three men should be placed on one.”

Once more I felt that I could not get courage to try. I could hear someone say:

“We will help you.”

I looked for someone, as before, but no one was near.

“Well, if you are going to work, do so at once.”

I bent over to make an attempt to satisfy my guard. As I did so I received help, and behold, I could feel the iron move! I was horrified, but I saw that I was moving it along[49] toward the truck, and that without strain or great effort on my part.

As the guard saw the great load moving he called out: “You are moving it! Be careful, be careful!”

I could hear the sound of someone breathing heavily. I put the load down and turned to see if I had help. As I looked for the guard, to my surprise, he was lying on the floor near by. I stepped over and spoke to him. He did not answer. I called out to him to speak to me. No answer. The shipping space was off to itself, and at that moment there was no one near. I could not think what to do. I could see at once that I would be accused of harming or killing him, as he lay apparently dead.