"August First, Nineteen Hundred and Eleven!" To you that probably conveys nothing; to me it is a never-to-be-forgotten day, the marking of an epoch in my life-a life up to that time brimful of tragic experience and vivid impressions. Since that time my life has been equally vivid, if not tragic, though in a different way. It was on that date, after spending ten years behind stultifying steel bars and stolid stone walls, ten years in stripes and in the midst of degradation, that I was parole from San Quentin prison.