Having now no special attendant, I spent many hours in my room, alone, but not absolutely alone, for somewhere the eye of a detective was evermore upon me.  Comparative solitude, however, gave me courage; and soon I began to read, regardless of consequences.  During the entire period of my depression, every publication seemed to have been written and printed for me, and me alone.  Books, magazines, and newspapers seemed to be special editions.  The fact that I well knew how inordinate would be the cost of such a procedure in no way shook my belief in it.  Indeed, that I was costing my persecutors fabulous amounts of money was a source of secret satisfaction.  My belief in special editions of newspapers was strengthened by items which seemed too trivial to warrant publication in any except editions issued for a special purpose.  I recall a seemingly absurd advertisement, in which the phrase, “Green Bluefish,” appeared.  At the time I did not know that “green” was a term used to denote “fresh” or “unsalted.”

During the earliest stages of my illness I had lost count of time, and the calendar did not right itself until the day when I largely regained my reason.  Meanwhile, the date on each newspaper was, according to my reckoning, two weeks out of the way.  This confirmed my belief in the special editions as a part of the Third Degree.

Most sane people think that no insane person can reason logically.  But this is not so.  Upon unreasonable premises I made most reasonable deductions, and that at the time when my mind was in its most disturbed condition.  Had the newspapers which I read on the day which I supposed to be February 1st borne a January date, I might not then, for so long a time, have believed in special editions.  Probably I should have inferred that the regular editions had been held back.  But the newspapers I had were dated about two weeks ahead.  Now if a sane person on February 1st receives a newspaper dated February 14th, be will be fully justified in thinking something wrong, either with the publication or with himself.  But the shifted calendar which had planted itself in my mind meant as much to me as the true calendar does to any sane business man.  During the seven hundred and ninety-eight days of depression I drew countless incorrect deductions.  But, such as they were, they were deductions, and essentially the mental process was not other than that which takes place in a well-ordered mind.

My gradually increasing vitality, although it increased my fear of trial, impelled me to take new risks.  I began to read not only newspapers, but also such books as were placed within my reach.  Yet had they not been placed there, I should have gone without them, for I would never ask even for what I greatly desired and knew I could have for the asking.