I seem to have been very fortunate in having a cell where discomfort was reduced to a minimum.
The condition of some of the cells I have seen in Sing Sing Prison is unspeakably bad. They are close, dark, damp, foul. To call them unfit for human habitation is to give them undeserved dignity; they are unfit for pigs.
CHAPTER VI
TUESDAY MORNING
In my cell, after dinner; Tuesday, September 30.
At about seven o’clock this morning the long iron bar, which locks the whole tier, is raised; and the Captain pauses a moment at my cell.
“Good morning, Thomas, how did you get through the night?”
“I didn’t sleep very well, sir.”