chapel-yet man knows not man. There is contiguity, but no neighbourhood; and the very names of the prisoners are lost in the mechanism which assigns numbers in their stead.

It requires the aid of sense to confirm the testimony of others, that the prison is really tenanted; the impulse is irresistible to ascertain the fact. A small aperture is so contrived in the door of each cell as to permit the visitor to see its inmate without himself being seen; and he can now traverse a corridor and remark the intensity of still life. All are profoundly engaged -one plying his trade, another busy with his slate, a third fixed and motionless over his Bible. The shoe-maker is squatting cross-legged and stooping over his last; the tailor raised on his table with his implements and materials about him; the weaver hardly distinguishable amid the framework of his active machinery; the basket-maker in his corner, distant an arm's length from the heap of osiers from which ever and anon he is selecting that to which he is about to give a form and shape. It is not here, as in the solitary occupations of the world, that the artizan can beguile his labour with snatches of some favourite melody; nothing must break the silence of the cell. Its inmate soon learns to concentrate all his energies on his work, which becomes to him a solacea necessity. Unconscious that any eye is upon him, he has no part to act, no sympathy to dream of exciting; and as he now appears, so he will be found at any interval of days, weeks, or months.

If the visitor be still disposed to linger and observe, he will presently see a long file of prisoners emerging from their cells, in such a pre-arranged order that each man is fifteen paces apart from his fellow, and so masked as to render mutual recognition impossible. Thus accoutred and marshalled, and shod so as to prevent sound, one half of the prisoners (250) proceed rapidly to the chapel, the interior of which is so arranged as to preclude even the tallest man from overlooking the one in the next slip. The pulpit is placed high, so as to command a perfect view of every convict, but intercommunion is further prevented by warders perched up on elevations, each with a full inspection of his own section of prisoners. Here at last is the silence broken-by the congregated sound of the simple melodies of our hymns; and there are few places where they strike so impressively on the heart as when they are poured forth amid the suggestive influences of the prison.* The service done, a dial-plate turns round presenting certain letters and numbers, which correspond to the sectional numbers and letters

There is one daily service at past 8 A.M. The other 250 attend a second service at past 4 P.M.

of

of the prisoners; as these appear, the peak of each cap is again let down so as to mask the features, and the chapel is as silently and quickly emptied as it had before been filled.

At present the distribution of the week-day gives

The whole prison is thoroughly warmed and ventilated. There is an abundant supply of water for all purposes of cleanliness and comfort in every cell; and gas is let on during the requisite hours, according to the season.

'Every prisoner has at least one hour's exercise daily in the airing grounds. The bedding is removed by each to his exercising yard to be aired-in summer once every week, and in winter as often as weather permits. The prisoners have warm baths every fortnight, and are supplied with clean sheets once in every six weeks, and at proper periods with soap, towels, combs, flannels, whiting, brickdust, and all other articles necessary for keeping their cells in high order, and for personal cleanliness.

On Sundays the warders assemble at half-past seven, instead of six A.M. The wards and cells are dusted and swept immediately after unlocking. The prisoners are exercised, but no work is performed. There are three services-morning, afternoon, and evening; each occupying an hour and a half. This arrangement admits of every prisoner attending Divine service twice on every alternate Sunday.'

What are the effects of such a system of discipline? Quite innocuous, say some; madness or premature disease, say others. Both opinions are partial. It is hardly to be expected that any individual can fail to suffer, when he is at once imprisoned in body and constrained in mind. On the other hand, those who have designated prisons on the Separate System as 'manufactories for madness,' have probably confounded the solitary with the separate system. In France, Esquirol and other high authorities on mental diseases have asserted that the latter system has no tendency to deteriorate mind; and, as far as a five years' experience of the working of discipline at Pentonville has gone, close observers all coincide with them. A very strong impression on the nervous system is made, and it requires careful watching to regulate it, but we believe that with such watchfulness it not only is controllable, but essential to that change of mind

which reforms character. There can be no doubt at least of this fact, that both mental and bodily disease are much less among the Pentonville prisoners than they would have been among the same men, if permitted to pursue their career unchecked. There is a false standard of comparison when you would measure the mortality of vice with that of virtue of the dissipated with the sober. The ratio should be struck between the criminal population free and the criminal population fettered; and who that has turned a page of any writer on the classes dangereuses can hesitate in believing that great saving of life and protection from disease have been effected? Be certain that of all poisons there is none so sure, so penetrating, as a rampant vice, which will first enslave, madden, and then kill, nay, even transmit its fatal tendencies to the offspring.

ease.

However, let us examine the facts. If it be true that this Separate System is maddening, it ought to tell most decidedly on such prisoners as are constitutionally predisposed to mental disNow on this point we can adduce distinct proof that some two or three score of persons, out of 1000 subjected to the discipline of Pentonville, have actually benefited by it in spite of indubitable hereditary taint or absolute individual predisposition. Take the following table from the Chaplain's Evidence in the App. to Fifth Report :

OBSERVATIONS made upon certain PRISONERS in whom injurious effects might have been feared from Separate Confinement.

Low intellect; Read well; write imperfectly; Improved gene

More than ordi-
narily reserved
and very dull.

A good intel-
lect; apparent
ly much com-
punction
sin.

Read tolerably; wrote imper-On the whole
fectly; improvement very
little.

His father was subject to Very low spirited Could read and write well;

of very curious temper, Nothing peculiar Read well, write tolerably; and sometimes rather childish.