INTRODUCTION.

This book was written through the inspirational spirit of the well-known writer, Samuel L. Clemens—“Mark Twain.” As I have never before written a book, the reader will see that I have had help from an unseen force—from the Spirit World.

I was told through a trumpet seance meeting, in the spirit voice of “Mark Twain,” to get the materials and he would write me a book—or, rather, that he would inspire me and I could write it, but he would give me the words to write, which he has done.

I was not in an unconscious condition. I can turn from my writing and converse as if I had not been at work through the power of my guide. I can give abundance of proof of this statement, also for the statement made in the seance meeting by the spirit from Heaven.

“Mark Twain” has given me encouragement from time to time in regard to my book, and he has promised to write many more for me.

Ida Belle White. (Mrs. J. L. White.)

[8]

[9]

CHAPTER I. The Place of Trouble.—The Convict’s Story.

I passed by the house and within I heard a noise. I stopped and listened, and I heard screams. The voice sounded like that of a lady whom I once knew. I was puzzled to know what to do, but finally decided to enter. To my surprise, I did know the lady. I apologized for intruding, saying that I was attracted by the terrible screams and thought I recognized the voice.

The lady replied: “You are very kind, but I think I shall be able to settle my trouble without your help.”

“I am very sorry, dear madam; I meant well,” I said.

I took my departure, yet I felt that I should not have done so under the circumstances, for I knew that the talk the dear lady made was through fear, as the master over her was standing near.

[10]

I was greatly depressed, because of the way in which I had left the place of trouble. I had gone only a short distance when I decided to return. I did so, and, to my surprise, I found the dear lady dead, as it is called.

I was horrified. The brute had fled. What was I to do? Go also and leave the poor dead woman? I decided to do so. When at some distance from the scene, I was hailed and confronted by the real murderer and an officer, who accused me of the terrible crime.

What could I do? I knew that I was not guilty, but I failed to make the officer believe it.

I was taken to jail because of the crime committed by the one who had me arrested. But I had been seen coming from the house and I had dropped my handkerchief while wiping the tears from my eyes.

[11]

I WAS HAILED AND CONFRONTED BY THE REAL MURDERER AND OFFICER.

[12]

It was thought to be a plain case with convincing proof—of circumstantial evidence. Thrown in jail, I was at a loss to know what to do. I was not guilty, but to prove it was the next thing, and the most important thing to do. I hailed the turnkey as he passed, and asked for an attorney. I was favored with the[13] services of one. I did some good thinking as to how I should prove my innocence.

“Well, my friend,” said the attorney, “I have come to see what I can do for you. I see you need help. You do not look like a very bad man or a criminal.”

“I thank you, sir,” I replied. “I am not either, but why am I accused of murder?”

“Murder! You a murderer? Oh, no, I hope not!”

“I am not, but how shall I make the court understand that I am innocent?”

“Well, my friend, explain your case.”

I explained matters, and he remarked: “I do not see how the court could find an innocent man like you guilty. I am going to show the court without trouble that you are not guilty. Have courage; I shall get you out of here as soon as possible.”

The day of the trial was at hand. I had become haggard and worn from the terrible strain, from the uncomfortable cell which I had occupied. My case was called. All ready, I was told to take my oath, and then I was sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.[14] If I could make the court understand that I was innocent, I would soon be a free man.

“Will you tell the court all about this case?” said my attorney.

I proceeded to do so, but, to my horror, I was proved guilty to the jury and sentenced by the judge.

What was I to do? I went back to jail to wait for a new trial. If that failed, it meant ten years in prison at hard work. I had been convicted on circumstantial evidence, my handkerchief being found in the house of the murdered woman. I tried to console myself with the belief that in some way I would be helped out.

I had remained in jail three months when one night I was thinking of the advice my poor old mother had given me, and that was: “When in trouble, pray, pray, pray!” I began to pray, and as I prayed I felt encouraged. After that, I prayed often, hoping that my prayers would be answered. At last I could see that I was fortunate to know within that I was not the real murderer; then I thought that I should pray for the murderer, and I did pray as I never prayed before.

[15]

Oh, what a terrible thing it is to be accused of a crime so great as that and be innocent!

A new trial was denied me. What was I to do? God knows I was innocent, but I could not make men believe so here on this earth. The day for the journey to the penitentiary was at hand, and I must go for another’s crime.

As the turnkey called us from our little, dark cells he said: “Please get ready, for we will have to take the morning train to your home—for some of you a home for some time to come.”

That included me; that meant a home for ten years—and innocent! I had no appetite that morning, for I was thinking of the injustice done to many innocent men, and I was one of them.

We were locked together—shackled—and started away to prison. On arrival we were listed for different crimes. A murderer, numbered 78! And the worst, I thought, was when they cut and shaved my head of hair. Then I was told to don my new suit of stripes and checks. That alone was enough to make any man falter.

“This way,” I heard a gruff voice say.

[16]

I looked for someone to look and in a second I felt the strong arm.

“To you I am speaking. I want to show you your cell.”

I had not recovered from the shock of my garments. I was shoved headlong into my cell, dark, and oh, so dreary! Anyone who could experience my feelings at that moment would never commit a crime.

I can not say that I rested well on my new bed that night. I thought that morning would never come. Yet I do not know why I should have longed for day, as I had so long a time to stay. At last breakfast was served—or, rather, thrown at us. I was feverish and excited. All the time I wondered what my work would be. I did not have to wonder long. I was unlocked from my cell and told to step out and fall in line. I did so and onward we marched. A halt was called and I was told to step aside.

A very important man, called guard, said: “You are wanted here, sir!”

I stepped aside and was shown my work, which was hard, even harder than anything I had ever done. I was told to pick up the sledge[17] and was shown in what shape to hammer the iron.

I hesitated, and finally said: “My God! man, I never did such hard work, and I don’t think I can do this.”

All the sympathy I received was: “You do the work or you will be thrown into a dark dungeon to decide if you can, and you will get bread and water until you do decide.”

I thought that I would as soon go into a dungeon as to work myself to death. However, I changed my mind and picked up the sledge, but I had not strength to wield it.

I fell upon my knees and prayed that God would give me help. While I was praying the guard came up and with his monstrous club gave me one blow, knocking me senseless.

I cried out as I came to my senses: “Man alive, do not strike me again! Can you not see I am not strong enough to do that work?”

“Oh! you fellows all have the same old gag to tell. Not strong enough! Ha, ha! But you are strong enough to strangle a poor woman to death.”

I rose to my feet, and shouted: “I am an[18] innocent man! I will be proven so before I leave this prison.”

“All who are sent here are innocent. Some of you surely get justice in trials.”

“I did not, for I was sentenced on circumstantial evidence, and I know and my God knows that I am innocent! The dear woman who was murdered knows who killed her.”

“Well, the woman is dead, and you can not prove by her that you did not kill her.”

“My friend, she is not dead. Her body is, but her spirit is not, and she can and will come and let it be known who the real murderer is.”

“Here, if you are crazy, we will put you in the mad-house. I know when you are dead you are dead.”

“I hope to be able to convince you before I leave here that the body dies, but the spirit lives on and returns and will and can talk.”

“Here, are you going to work? I have heard enough of your foolish talk.”

“I will try, sir.”

[19]

“MY GOD, MAN, I NEVER DID SUCH HARD WORK.”

[20]

No one can realize how I suffered. I was not able to work, yet I was forced to do so. I worried through that day. I could not eat the poor food that was given us. Another[21] morning came. During the restless night I had prayed for help from the Spirit World, and I felt that my prayers were answered.

The guard called: “You, I say, that never dies, get out here and get your breakfast and go to work.”

I stood up, and said: “I am ready, sir, but this morning I am so sick.”

“You eat what you get, and in a hurry too, for we want to see you at work.”

I obeyed, and was soon on the road to work.

The prison laws were that we were not allowed to speak to our fellow-men. I watched my chance to speak, and when opportunity presented, I said:

“Friend, how long are you here for?”

He did not answer. I thought perhaps he was hard of hearing, and repeated the words. He finally looked up and moved his lips. I knew he had served some time, as he had learned the sight movement of the lips, and I did not and could not understand that. I saw that I was lost, not knowing how to talk in that way.

The guard said roughly: “You are not doing much. Here, are you watching for[22] opportunity to lay down on me when I am not looking?”

“I am not, guard. I am doing all I am able to.”

“I think if you had a day or two rest in the rest-room it would help you. Come along here with me.”

The rest-room was a dungeon, dark as night. When I heard the heavy iron door close after me, I fell upon my knees and prayed God to take me from the place of darkness. I was hungry and cold. All the time I could hear the words:

“We know you are innocent and will help you, and you shall be out of this place of unjust punishment.”

That night—oh, so long! Cold and hungry I was—I had no bed. The following morning I was given water and was told to drink and be merry; yes, to be merry! I wonder if the outside world could and does believe the stories of the unfortunate ones who, guilty or not guilty, have to endure tortures behind prison walls.

I remained there three days and grew weaker all the time. Why should I not grow weak,[23] living on water and darkness and standing up to sleep?

I was put to work at the same hard labor which I had performed before. I grew faint and fell at my post. I lay there when the guard came upon me. How he did swear! He clubbed me to my feet and reached out for me. One jerk from him raised me from my feet. He had subsisted upon good, substantial food. I was weak, hungry, and sick.

I was taken to the office for a talk on “the carpet,” as we called it in prison. As the Power over all men seemed to look down on me, I raised my eyes to Heaven and asked for proof to convince the official that I was an innocent man. I was hoping against hope for proof, and I heard a voice say: “Take him out. I will see what this lady wants.” The official saw one whom neither the guard nor I saw. I was led away, back to the dungeon.

Some hours afterwards I was again taken to “the carpet.” I was praying silently for proof of my innocence. Again I was told: “Step aside, for the ladies come first.” Later I was told of a very mysterious lady who showed[24] herself unannounced and when she was spoken to, vanished.

Who could it be? When I was a child, I often sat with my dear father and mother around the fireplace and listened with the cold chills running down my back to stories of ghosts, as they called them, and how the ghosts would come and go. No, not where I sat in my dark dungeon and wondered if that lady could talk, and, if so, why could she not come to me and talk to me, as I was all alone. And I again thought perhaps I would not care to have her come to me—not as long as I was in the dark and all alone. But what and who could the mysterious lady be? I was so interested in our ghost woman that I forgot my own troubles.

That night, as I was wishing and praying for morning, and wondering what would be done with me on “the carpet,” I felt that I could hardly wait. At last the sun shone on the prison walls once more, and I was heartily glad. One more day less of my ten years served. But there were still years to serve, and with such treatment and hard labor there was not much encouragement for a poor convict.

I heard my cell door open. A gruff voice called to me to step out. I was glad to do so, and was told to come along.

[25]

CHAPTER II. Prison Life.—Mysterious Influences.

As I was taken through the iron doors I heard a slam after me. The guard also heard the same noise. Turning, he called to me to halt, saying: “What was that?”

“I’m sure, I do not know, sir,” I replied; “I only heard a noise.”

“I am not sure whether I did or not. I thought I saw a lady, as I turned my head.”

“Could it be a ghost?” I thought, and, if so, why was it following me?

“Guard, what is the complaint against this man?” inquired the superintendent.

“He will not work, sir.”

“Not work? Oh! Well, you have had a taste of the dungeon, have you not? If that will not do, we shall have to try some other means to get you to work, and that will be to tie your hands above your head until you are willing to work. How do you think you would like that?”

“I am willing to work if I had lighter work,”[26] I said; “I have never had to do such heavy work, and I am unable to do it.”

“Take him out,” commanded the superintendent, “and put him on the rack, and when you feel you can do the work, we will be glad to take you to your work.”

I did not know what “the rack” meant and was very willing to follow. To my horror, it was a place where my hands were tied above my head. I stood facing the wall. Imagine the punishment of one fellow-man upon another! I begged for mercy. All my pleadings were ignored. When the guard had finished tying my hands, I was told that he would be around inside of twenty-four hours, to see if I had changed my mind.

I knew that I could not stand the punishment long. I began to pray. I prayed for dear old mother to come to her helpless and innocent son. I began to feel the rack quiver. I was startled. I ceased praying for a moment. I thought I could feel the clasps move on my wrists. I was shaken with fear. Was I going mad, or did I feel the clasps move? To my great surprise, I was lowered so I could stand on the bottoms of my feet; before I could touch only the floor with my toes. I felt a terrible[27] feeling come over me and all was dark. When I came to myself, I was released. Could the guard have knocked me senseless? How was I loosened? I did not see him near me. I did not feel hurt from any blow. What could have happened to me! I remained there in a wonderment of thought as to what could have happened. About five hours had passed when I heard footsteps and the guard entered. He was astonished when he saw that I was loosed.

“What does this mean?” he exclaimed.

“I am not able to say, sir. Did you not free my hands?”

“I? No, sir; you know that I did not, and who did?”

“I do not know. I was praying to my dear old mother, who died many years ago, to come to me and help me, as I was innocent of the crime for which I am being punished, and while I was praying I felt a dizziness come over me, and my hands were loosened and I was thrown to the floor, and when I came to my senses, I was free.”

“So you think that story will go here, do you? Well, come along. We shall see if we can tie you so your prayers will not untie you.”

“My God! do not punish me any more seriously.[28] I am not deserving of this. I say to you that I am innocent.”

“We would have no use for the building if all of you fellows could prove to the world that you were innocent. If you are not guilty, why have you been brought here? Surely you had some justice done you.”

“Sir, I was convicted on circumstantial evidence. I was not proved guilty, for I am not guilty. The guilty one is at large, and the innocent one is here for ten years.”

“You are having your own way about this argument. I only know you are here for murder, and it is my duty to see that you are working for the next ten years. Come along with me.”

I was taken to “the carpet” and the look of the officer and higher official was like daggers. I trembled from head to foot.

“You here again? What is the trouble, guard?”

“I found this man standing with hands untied when I entered the rack.”

“What does this mean? Who untied you?”

I saluted the superintendent, and replied: “I do not know.”

“Well, we will see if we can find out. Take[29] him back and double-tie his hands. Strap his feet also, and tip-toe him, and perhaps he will be willing to work by and by.”

I began to beg. How could anyone punish his brother man so? I said:

“I am human and have feeling. I do not deserve such hard treatment. I would work willingly if you would give me work that I can do. I can not do hard labor—I never did.”

“You will do what we see fit to give you to do, and if you are not willing, you go back to the rack.”

I could not stand the ordeal. On bended knees I begged for mercy, and the mercy shown me was a clubbing, and I was marched back to the rack.

“Now, sir, I will strap you, as I was ordered to do, and I will be around, perhaps, to see the other fellow untie you.”

As before, I was strapped with uplifted hands, and drawn from the floor to the tips of my toes. I was exhausted with fear, and as I was being tied, both feet together, I cried out: “God, have pity! Give me help and strength to stand this, for Thou, O Heavenly Father, dost know that I am innocent.”

I heard the heavy iron door close behind me,[30] as I thought, for the last time. I could not see how I could ever withstand this punishment.

Suddenly I began to experience the peculiar feeling of dizziness that had come over me before. I felt my hands being loosened, then I knew nothing more. I lay I do not know how long. The first I remembered was when I again heard the door slam and over me stood the guard and the superintendent. I was told to get up. I obeyed, and the look on the faces of those men I shall never forget.

After I was questioned as to how I felt, the dizziness began again to come upon me. I was again taken back to “the carpet,” but this time with more of the feeling of sympathy than before.

“I am at a loss, sir, to know what to do with you,” said the superintendent. “I think that I shall have an investigation of your case and see if we can find why and what power you have, if any. I was an eye-witness to your being untied this time, and no one assisted. Invisible power is the only explanation I can make.”

[31]

“THE FIRST I REMEMBER WAS WHEN I AGAIN HEARD THE DOOR SLAM, AND OVER ME STOOD THE GUARD AND THE SUPERINTENDENT.”

[32]

Again I was taken back, but not to the rack—to my cell, where I was given some coffee, and kind words with it. I was wondering[33] what this meant when I heard footsteps, then voices saying:

“Let them tie you as often as they will. I shall free you. You are innocent, and shall not be punished.”