As I think my narrative must have shown, there is a very soft spot in my heart for my comrades of the dark cells. It has been a source of deep regret to me that Joe, Number Four, did not make good on his release; and I hope that the others will have stronger purposes and better results.
Perhaps there may be some interest in the fate of the poor lad in Cell Two, who tipped over his water, and whose mental and physical sufferings added so much to my own distress during that horrible night. Upon his release the next day he went back to the hospital, where he remained for some time. In the month of November, while I was in Europe, he wrote me the following letter.
135 State St., Auburn, N. Y., Monday, Nov. 16, 1913.
How little those words convey, and again how much. That I may write them to you, in the consciousness that they mean all that the words "dear friend" imply, is a greater happiness than I dared hope for. I have been in "Lunnon" with you for the past two weeks. That means, I have been allowing myself the daily luxury of thinking of you, and now the rare one of writing.
I presume you are wondering if I have been to the bungaloo since your departure. No, sir! My promise will hold good. In the past I have formed good resolutions, not one but many. Most of them died in their infancy; others lived long enough to make me unhappy. This time, though, circumstances are different, and I sincerely hope that confidence placed in me will not have been wasted.
Number One, did you ever have the blues--real, dark, deep indigo, bluey blues? I do frequently, and the cause I attribute to my ear. There is a continual buzzing, with short, shooting pains; and the doctors have informed me there is no cure. I receive a syringe of twenty-five per cent. alcohol daily, that gives relief for the time being. Well, Thanksgiving is near at hand; so I ought to be thankful that my other ear is not performing like a motor in need of oil. Believe me, I am.
Mr. Peacock called Sunday (8th) and we had an agreeable talk. He seemed a very pleasant gentleman, and warned me to walk a chalk line, so you see I dare not go to jail. As you once upon a time were in prison, to a certain extent, you realize what pleasures a visit brings. I appreciate yours, Mr. P.'s, and Mr. Rattigan's kindness very much.