Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Select Journal of Foreign Periodical Literature, Vol. 2: July October, 1833
I was registered. The word is degrading, terrible, - like a chain which 1s placed upon you, a weight attached to you, a physi cal burden; by this compact of strength against weakness, you belong to the prison: you are the thing, the puppet, the furniture of the keeper. You descend from the condition Of man to that of an insensible and brute being, classed, ticketed, like a faggot torn from the forest and laid up in its order to be burnt, in the store house of its proprietor.
The lantern at the gate cast but a dim and feeble light upon surrounding objects. I caught a glimpse of the rags of a robber seated on the same bench with myself, also waiting his registration. A man in a brown dress laid hold of me by the hand. We climbed up stairs, we crossed galleries the wind blew moist and cold through these dismal passages my eyes, unaccustomed to this new world, discerned nothing but red stars, as it were, burning here and there, they were the lamps attached to the wall.
I am sorry, young man, s'aid my guide, that such are our orders; but you are an secret.'
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