how　did　I　remember　them？
  Oh；　what　a　fluttering　of　luminous　images　and　actions！　　In　a　few
  short　minutes　of　loosed　subconsciousness　I　have　sat　in　the　halls　of
  kings；　above　the　salt　and　below　the　salt；　been　fool　and　jester；　man…
  at…arms；　clerk　and　monk；　and　I　have　been　ruler　above　all　at　the　head
  of　the　tabletemporal　power　in　my　own　sword　arm；　in　the　thickness
  of　my　castle　walls；　and　the　numbers　of　my　fighting　men；　spiritual
  power　likewise　mine　by　token　of　the　fact　that　cowled　priests　and　fat
  abbots　sat　beneath　me　and　swigged　my　wine　and　swined　my　meat。
  I　have　worn　the　iron　collar　of　the　serf　about　my　neck　in　cold
  climes；　and　I　have　loved　princesses　of　royal　houses　in　the　tropic…
  warmed　and　sun…scented　night；　where　black　slaves　fanned　the　sultry
  air　with　fans　of　peacock　plumes；　while　from　afar；　across　the　palm
  and　fountains；　drifted　the　roaring　of　lions　and　the　cries　of
  jackals。　　I　have　crouched　in　chill　desert　places　warming　my　hands　at
  fires　builded　of　camel's　dung；　and　I　have　lain　in　the　meagre　shade
  of　sun…parched　sagebrush　by　dry　water…holes　and　yearned　dry…tongued
  for　water；　while　about　me；　dismembered　and　scattered　in　the　alkali；
  were　the　bones　of　men　and　beasts　who　had　yearned　and　died。
  I　have　been　sea…cuny　and　bravo；　scholar　and　recluse。　　I　have　pored
  over　hand…written　pages　of　huge　and　musty　tomes　in　the　scholastic
  quietude　and　twilight　of　cliff…perched　monasteries；　while　beneath　on
  the　lesser　slopes；　peasants　still　toiled　beyond　the　end　of　day　among
  the　vines　and　olives　and　drove　in　from　pastures　the　blatting　goats
  and　lowing　kine；　yes；　and　I　have　led　shouting　rabbles　down　the
  wheel…worn；　chariot…rutted　paves　of　ancient　and　forgotten　cities；
  and；　solemn…voiced　and　grave　as　death；　I　have　enunciated　the　law；
  stated　the　gravity　of　the　infraction；　and　imposed　the　due　death　on
  men；　who；　like　Darrell　Standing　in　Folsom　Prison；　had　broken　the
  law。
  Aloft；　at　giddy　mastheads　oscillating　above　the　decks　of　ships；　I
  have　gazed　on　sun…flashed　water　where　coral…growths　iridesced　from
  profounds　of　turquoise　deeps；　and　conned　the　ships　into　the　safety
  of　mirrored　lagoons　where　the　anchors　rumbled　down　close　to　palm…
  fronded　beaches　of　sea…pounded　coral　rock；　and　I　have　striven　on
  forgotten　battlefields　of　the　elder　days；　when　the　sun　went　down　on
  slaughter　that　did　not　cease　and　that　continued　through　the　night…
  hours　with　the　stars　shining　down　and　with　a　cool　night　wind　blowing
  from　distant　peaks　of　snow　that　failed　to　chill　the　sweat　of　battle；
  and　again；　I　have　been　little　Darrell　Standing；　bare…footed　in　the
  dew…lush　grass　of　spring　on　the　Minnesota　farm；　chilblained　when　of
  frosty　mornings　I　fed　the　cattle　in　their　breath…steaming　stalls；
  sobered　to　fear　and　awe　of　the　splendour　and　terror　of　God　when　I
  sat　on　Sundays　under　the　rant　and　preachment　of　the　New　Jerusalem
  and　the　agonies　of　hell…fire。
  Now；　the　foregoing　were　the　glimpses　and　glimmerings　that　came　to
  me；　when；　in　Cell　One　of　Solitary　in　San　Quentin；　I　stared　myself
  unconscious　by　means　of　a　particle　of　bright；　light…radiating　straw。
  How　did　these　things　come　to　me？　　Surely　I　could　not　have
  manufactured　them　out　of　nothing　inside　my　pent　walls　any　more　than
  could　I　have　manufactured　out　of　nothing　the　thirty…five　pounds　of
  dynamite　so　ruthlessly　demanded　of　me　by　Captain　Jamie；　Warden
  Atherton；　and　the　Prison　Board　of　Directors。
  I　am　Darrell　Standing；　born　and　raised　on　a　quarter　section　of　land
  in　Minnesota；　erstwhile　professor　of　agronomy；　a　prisoner
  incorrigible　in　San　Quentin；　and　at　present　a　death…sentenced　man　in
  Folsom。　　I　do　not　know；　of　Darrell　Standing's　experience；　these
  things　of　which　I　write　and　which　I　have　dug　from　out　my　store…
  houses　of　subconsciousness。　　I；　Darrell　Standing；　born　in　Minnesota
  and　soon　to　die　by　the　rope　in　California；　surely　never　loved
  daughters　of　kings　in　the　courts　of　kings；　nor　fought　cutlass　to
  cutlass　on　the　swaying　decks　of　ships；　nor　drowned　in　the　spirit…
  rooms　of　ships；　guzzling　raw　liquor　to　the　wassail…shouting　and
  death…singing　of　seamen；　while　the　ship　lifted　and　crashed　on　the
  black…toothed　rocks　and　the　water　bubbled　overhead；　beneath；　and　all
  about。
  Such　things　are　not　of　Darrell　Standing's　experience　in　the　world。
  Yet　I；　Darrell　Standing；　found　these　things　within　myself　in
  solitary　in　San　Quentin　by　means　of　mechanical　self…hypnosis。　　No
  more　were　these　experiences　Darrell　Standing's　than　was　the　word
  〃Samaria〃　Darrell　Standing's　when　it　leapt　to　his　child　lips　at
  sight　of　a　photograph。
  One　cannot　make　anything　out　of　nothing。　　In　solitary　I　could　not　so
  make　thirty…five　pounds　of　dynamite。　　Nor　in　solitary；　out　of
  nothing　in　Darrell　Standing's　experience；　could　I　make　these　wide；
  far　visions　of　time　and　space。　　These　things　were　in　the　content　of
  my　mind；　and　in　my　mind　I　was　just　beginning　to　learn　my　way　about。
  CHAPTER　VII
  So　here　was　my　predicament：　　I　knew　that　within　myself　was　a
  Golconda　of　memories　of　other　lives；　yet　I　was　unable　to　do　more
  than　flit　like　a　madman　through　those　memories。　　I　had　my　Golconda
  but　could　not　mine　it。
  I　remembered　the　case　of　Stainton　Moses；　the　clergyman　who　had　been
  possessed　by　the　personalities　of　St。　Hippolytus；　Plotinus；
  Athenodorus；　and　of　that　friend　of　Erasmus　named　Grocyn。　　And　when　I
  considered　the　experiments　of　Colonel　de　Rochas；　which　I　had　read　in
  tyro　fashion　in　other　and　busier　days；　I　was　convinced　that　Stainton
  Moses　had；　in　previous　lives；　been　those　personalities　that　on
  occasion　seemed　to　possess　him。　　In　truth；　they　were　he；　they　were
  the　links　of　the　chain　of　recurrence。
  But　more　especially　did　I　dwell　upon　the　experiments　of　Colonel　de
  Rochas。　　By　means　of　suitable　hypnotic　subjects　he　claimed　that　he
  had　penetrated　backwards　through　time　to　the　ancestors　of　his
  subjects。　　Thus；　the　case　of　Josephine　which　he　describes。　　She　was
  eighteen　years　old　and　she　lived　at　Voiron；　in　the　department　of　the
  Isere。　　Under　hypnotism　Colonel　de　Rochas　sent　her　adventuring　back
  through　her　adolescence；　her　girlhood；　her　childhood；　breast…
  infancy；　and　the　silent　dark　of　her　mother's　womb；　and；　still　back；
  through　the　silence　and　the　dark　of　the　time　when　she；　Josephine；
  was　not　yet　born；　to　the　light　and　life　of　a　previous　living；　when
  she　had　been　a　churlish；　suspicious；　and　embittered　old　man；　by　name
  Jean…Claude　Bourdon；　who　had　served　his　time　in　the　Seventh
  Artillery　at　Besancon；　and　who　died　at　the　age　of　seventy；　long
  bedridden。　　YES；　and　did　not　Colonel　de　Rochas　in　turn　hypnotize
  this　shade　of　Jean…Claude　Bourdon；　so　that　he　adventured　farther
  back　into　time；　through　infancy　and　birth　and　the　dark　of　the
  unborn；　until　he　found　again　light　and　life　when；　as　a　wicked　old
  woman；　he　had　been　Philomene　Carteron？
  But　try　as　I　would　with　my　bright　bit　of　straw　in　the　oozement　of
  light　into　solitary；　I　failed　to　achieve　any　such　definiteness　of
  previous　personality。　　I　became　convinced；　through　the　failure　of　my
  experiments；　that　only　through　death　could　I　clearly　and　coherently
  resurrect　the　memories　of　my　previous　selves。
  But　the　tides　of　life　ran　strong　in　me。　　I；　Darrell　Standing；　was　so
  strongly　disinclined　to　die　that　I　refused　to　let　Warden　Atherton
  and　Captain　Jamie　kill　me。　　I　was　always　so　innately　urged　to　live
  that　sometimes　I　think　that　is　why　I　am　still　here；　eating　and
  sleeping；　thinking　and　dreaming；　writing　this　narrative　of　my
  various　me's；　and　awaiting　the　incontestable　rope　that　will　put　an
  ephemeral　period　in　my　long…linked　existence。
  And　then　came　death　in　life。　　I　learned　the　trick；　Ed　Morrell　taught
  it　me；　as　you　shall　see。　　It　began　through　Warden　Atherton　and
  Captain　Jamie。　　They　must　have　experienced　a　recrudescence　of　panic
  at　thought　of　the　dynamite　they　believed　hidden。　　They　came　to　me　in
  my　dark　cell；　and　they　told　me　plainly　that　they　would　jacket　me　to
  death　if　I　did　not　confess　where　the　dynamite　was　hidden。　　And　they
  assured　me　that　they　would　do　it　officially　without　any　hurt　to
  their　own　official　skins。　　My　death　would　appear　on　the　prison
  register　as　due　to　natural　causes。
  Oh；　dear；　cotton…wool　citizen；　please　believe　me　when　I　tell　you
  that　men　are　killed　in　prisons　to…day　as　they　have　always　been
  killed　since　the　first　prisons　were　built　by　men。
  I　well　knew　the　terror；　the　agony；　and　the　danger　of　the　jacket。
  Oh；　the　men　spirit…broken　by　the　jacket！　　I　have　seen　them。　　And　I
  have　seen　men　crippled　for　life　by　the　jacket。　　I　have　seen　men；
  strong　men；　men　so　strong　that　their　physical　stamina　resisted　all
  attacks　of　prison　tuberculosis；　after　a　prolonged　bout　with　the
  jacket；　their　resistance　broken　down；　fade　away；　and　die　of
  tuberculosis　within　six　months。　　There　was　Slant…Eyed　Wilson；　with
  an　unguessed　weak　heart　of　fear；　who　died　in　the　jacket　within　the
  first　hour　while　the　unconvinced　inefficient　of　a　prison　doctor
  looked　on　and　sm