I screamed and raved and fought.

My sufferings were prodigious.

Emerging from such delirium, I would hear my mother's voice: "But the child's brain.

He will lose his reason." And sinking back into delirium, I would take the idea with me and be immured in madhouses, and be beaten by keepers, and surrounded by screeching lunatics.
One thing that had strongly impressed my young mind was the talk of my elders about the dens of iniquity in San Francisco's Chinatown.

In my delirium I wandered deep beneath the ground through a thousand of these dens, and behind locked doors of iron I suffered and died a thousand deaths.