Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison / Fifteen Years in Solitude by Austin Biron Bidwell :

FREED A HUMAN WRECK, A WONDERFUL SURVIVAL AND A MORE WONDERFUL RISE IN THE WORLD. TO-DAY HE HAS A NATIONAL REPUTATION AS A WRITER, SPEAKER AND IS CONSIDERED AN AUTHORITY ON ALL SOCIAL PROBLEMS. HE WAS TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY AND SENTENCED FOR LIFE. CHARGED WITH THE £1,000,000 FORGERY ON THE BANK OF ENGLAND. THIS STORY SHOWS THAT THE EVENTS OF HIS LIFE SURPASS THE IMAGINATIONS OF OUR FAMOUS NOVELISTS, ITS THRILLING SCENES, HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES AND MARVELOUS ADVENTURES ARE NOT A RECORD OF CRIME, BUT ARE PROOFS OF THAT CHAPTER I. HAD THERE BEEN WISDOM THERE? We lived in South Brooklyn, near to old No. 13, the Degraw Street Public School. To that I was sent, and there got all the education I was ever fated to have at any school, except the school of life and experience. I attended for some years, and even now I cannot recall without a smile the absurd incompetency of every one connected with the institution and their utter ignorance of the art of imparting knowledge to children. At home I had picked up that grand art of reading, and went to school to learn the other two R's, with any trifle that I might come across floating around promiscuously. I certainly hope our much-lauded public schools are conducted on better lines now than then; if not, they are frauds from the foundation. The instruction in No. 13 was so lax and radically bad that the whole governing body and the principal ought to have been sent to the penitentiary on the charge of false pretense for drawing their salaries and giving nothing in return. And yet I remember when examination day came, instead of the committee investigating the progress of the pupils, it usually turned into a mere hallelujah chorus upon our "grand public school system." Here is a remarkable I seldom missed a promotion and passed from grade to grade until within two years I found myself in Junior "A," the next to the highest class in the school, just as ignorant as my classmates, and that is saying much. It was all very pitiful. My blood boils even now when I think of the traitors chosen and paid to see me fully equipped and armed to begin the battle of life who left me with phantom weapons which would shiver into fragments at the first shock of conflict. CONTENTS HAD THERE BEEN WISDOM THERE? "'TWAS EVER THUS." OF COURSE IT WAS. A LICENSED PIRATE. FOOLS STUMBLING ON FORTUNES. WHEN BOSS TWEED WAS NEW YORK'S OWNER AND JIM FISK, PROPRIETOR OF OUR JUDGES. CHEATED VISIONS AND VANISHED HOPES. GILDED SIRS WHO ARE NOT WISE. THE MERRY SUMMER OVER AND NO HARVEST STORED. WE HAVE ANOTHER JOB FOR YOU. A NINETEENTH CENTURY PRODIGAL. CRACK THE LAWYER'S VOICE THAT HE MAY NEVER MORE FALSE TITLES PLEAD, NOR SOUND HIS QUILLETS SHRILLY. RESTEZ ICI, MES ENFANTS. WE TALK OF THE STARS AND DO THE OTHER THING. I PLAY THE SILVER KING. PIRATICAL CRUISE IN TROPICAL SEAS. SHOW ME YOUR LETTERS OF CREDIT. ONCE MORE WE SAIL THE SEAS OVER. LITTLE FISHES WRIGGLING THROUGH GREEN WAVES. WITH NO REGRETS, WITH NO TORTURING REMORSE. DETAILS NECESSARY, IF TEDIOUS. THE EGYPTIANS PASS OVER THE RED SEA AND THE HEBREWS ARE DROWNED THEREIN. ACCEPTED. LIONEL ROTHSCHILD. SHOWERS OF GOLD FALL—AND THEN? POINTS FOR JUSTICE TO PICK UP. THE IRONY OF FATE. EXCUSE ME, SIR, FOR QUESTIONING YOU. THE FLOWERS IN THE PRIMROSE WAY ARE SWEET. FEAR SAYS "NO" TO HAPPINESS. I WATCH THE PYRENEES SINK IN THE SEA, THEN SAIL O'ER GREEN NEPTUNE'S BACK. HAPPINESS AND I SHAKE HANDS FOR A TIME. THE PHILISTINES ARE UPON THEE, SAMSON. NIGHTLY IN MY DUNGEON THE MAGICIAN MEMORY WOULD UNROLL THAT SCENE. SHARKS, SALT WATER ONES, AND OTHER THINGS. ONE LOVELY JUNE MORNING INTO PLYMOUTH HARBOR WE SAIL. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. "NOTHING LEFT US BUT A GRAVE, THAT SMALL MODEL OF THE BARREN EARTH," WITH DISHONOR FOR AN EPITAPH. HENCEFORTH A LIGHT WAS TO STREAM THROUGH THE FLUTED GLASS OF MY WINDOW. WHAT, THESE TEDIOUS DETAILS AGAIN. THE DAYS O' SUMMER MERRILY SPENT IN THE LAND OF THE HEATHER. WE WILL FERRY YOU OVER JORDA