entirely without hint or solicitation from me. It is natural that
I should think them interesting; I hope that others may find them so.

Here is A's account:

On Monday, a little after 10 A. M., a man passed through the front gate,
and without any ceremony was registered on the book of entries as Tom
Brown and recorded as No. 33,333x. After a brief examination he was
conducted to the tailor-shop where the cutaway was changed for a suit of
prison gray.

The funds of Mr. Brown being at low ebb, the state graciously presented
him with a towel, a pair of working shoes, and a red bandanna
handkerchief.[4]

With these meager possessions Tom again emerged into the large yard; and
the old adage, "What a difference just a few clothes make," became very
evident, for in every appearance he looked just like the brotherhood he
was about to join.

When a new man enters, a general whisper is always heard throughout the
various shops. "Well, here's a new boarder!" This was applied to him as he
passed through the yard accompanied by Captain D.

We all knew who Tom was, but on the Sunday previous when he outlined his
intentions a silent compact had been made--to consider him as an ordinary
inmate; and the promise was fulfilled to the letter. What our thoughts
were--is an entirely different story.

B's account is somewhat more racy and intimate, and contains some very
characteristic touches:

A few comments in the cell house on the day of Tom Brown's arrival at
Auburn Prison to start his self-imposed bit.

"Hello, Bill! There he goes. And say, he just walks with the confidence of
an old timer! Well, old pals, you will have to take your hats off to him
as a game one, all right!"

By this time all the keepers in the cell house looking through the
windows. But not with that same old smile they usually carry. Someone sung
in a low tone that old time melody,

"O what has changed them?"

and the gang had to take to cover; a look from some of the sore keepers
made it plain we better move.

While he was down getting dolled up in his new suit of gray, someone asked
where the P. K. was; and Jack replied, "Why, he just passed me over in the
alley; and say, fellows, he has got so thin I didn't know him; I guess
you'll find him over in the jail office hiding behind a broom."

Someone gave us the wire that Tom was coming up the yard again, and we
made a bee line for a rubber. Sure enough there is Tom, coming up the line
in his new c