I’ve been in jail for two weeks. My jailers give me every courtesy and bend the rules to admit my friends, but I crave freedom and fresh air. Mr. Gregory and Mr. MacNair come daily with legal advice. My students, my colleagues, and even ladies visit. Watching them leave my cell, I realize I have no idea when I’ll be released. Friends offer to pay my costs, but I refuse to be in their debt. I’m advised that if I declare myself insolvent, the judge may release me. I’m told this is the only other path open to me, but I’m reluctant to take it. A decree of insolvency would be my final humiliation. But the prospect of remaining in jail for months or even years is unacceptable. I swallow my pride and appeal to the judge.
My enemies make things as difficult as possible. The woman’s cat’s-paw, Judge Wilson, requires I recover the money I transferred to my mother and sisters and wants a statement of my future prospects. How should I know? It’s in God’s hands.
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