The convict librarian came along with his catalogue. I selected a book and he got it for me immediately.

My cell was furnished with an iron bed, a small table, a bookshelf, a three-legged wooden stool, and a galvanized iron bucket. On the bed, folded, were a heavy, clean pair of blankets and two sheets. On top of the folded blankets was a straw pillow in a clean slip. Later on a trusty brought me a gallon bucket of water, a tin cup, a small wooden vessel to wash in, and a clean towel. Every movable article in the cell had my prison number on it, and I kept them till the day of my discharge. On the wall was a card of “Rules and Regulations for the Guidance of Prisoners.” My first act was to read the rules. This was prompted by curiosity to learn just what I was up against, rather than a desire to learn and obey.

I sat on my stool and tried to read, but my mind was on the morning. Every hour of the long night I woke up with the sting of the lash on my back.