Most of the following is true, or founded on truth. A few are waifs—products of my imagination; little stories that came into my mind from time to time. Some of them are from letters written home while I was confined in the Tombs Prison in New York City, and in the Death-Chamber at Sing Sing.

In them I have not inflicted myself to any great extent upon the reader. Herein is chiefly what I saw when trying to look upon the bright side. There are also glimpses of the side which cannot be made bright, look at it as one may.

But if anything in these pages leads some one to think of what must be endured in either place, let me say, that no suffering was ever willingly caused by the officials with whom I came in contact during my “banishment,” and I take this opportunity to thank them all, without exception, for their consideration, sympathy, and unvarying kindness to me and mine.

The Room with the Little Door