Prisons of the world : with stories of crime, criminals and convicts
i sat *TOpJt».T«7aj» **x ~*o,&»<C •$eA^^>&»^-*yfA*^/s»£S *5 * '^0 i«SM^^SSNfe#® *~iu .*&• oj^ fc^ acZ<&,-&i ZK^f M, »» THE PRISONS OT ™E WORLD. WITH STORIES OF CRIME, CRIMINALS, AND CONVICTS. BY CHAS. COOK. WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY C. H. SPURGEON. LONDON: MORGAN AND SCOTT, (OFFICE OF 'lfi;hc Christian"), 12, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.G. And may be ordered of any Bookseller. r Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury. PREFACE. FOR many years I have been interested in criminals, and when I first entered a foreign gaol, and learned that the inmates were not provided with the Word of God, I endeavoured to supply them with it. While pursuing my labours in this direction, I found many prisoners suffering unjustly, or lacking food. In the one case I could not but protest, sympathise, and help ; in the other I was bound to provide. The following pages are a record of my journeys and experiences in the Prison World ; and an account of prisoners, with the treatment they receive in most civilised countries. Remarks made by friends who have heard my lectures on the subject, or who have read the articles I have from time to time contributed to The Christian, have led me to think that a more detailed and compre- hensive account would not prove unacceptable. It will be evident that there has been no attempt at literary finish ; I have but given a simple description of suffer- ings seen, of reforms needed, and of work accomplished. 107716" vi PREFACE. Meanwhile I shall be glad to deliver lectures on this subject, illustrated by costumes of the different countries through which I have travelled, or by dissolving views which I have obtained abroad. Friends who are interested in the above will perhaps correspond with me. CHAS. COOK. 6, FRITHVILLE GARDENS, SHEPHERD'S BUSH, W., September 1891. INTRODUCTION. JOHN HOWARD, of Bedford, went forth under I the impulse of humanity — and, I think, under the guidance of God's Spirit — to visit the dungeons and the prisons of Europe. You know how he spent his life in going from one gaol to another, and at last died of a fever which he had taken in gaol, and passed away to his rest. He exposed things which had not been known, and he set in clearer light things that were known, but which had been thought tolerable, and had been winked at ; and he commenced a great reform in prison life, which has been carried on to this day. I do not think that every alteration has been an improvement ; but certainly the prisons of one hundred years ago were very, very different from what they are to-day. There is room for improvement still, even in our own country ; and I especially call to mind the fact that if any one were charged with any crime of which he might be perfectly innocent, yet there is no room in which he would be put as an innocent man, but he would be mingled with the guilty, which I hold to be a treason to every honest man, and it ought to be rectified as soon as possible. There are other things which are constantly being brought to light with regard to the mismanagement Yiii INTR OD UCTION. of our prisons, but there is a healthy public sentiment abroad, which I believe will not allow anything that is desperately bad long to remain. In countries which Mr. Cook has visited there is often an absence of any such sentiment. Yet, if things are more exposed to light in civilised Europe, that cannot live long. Even a Turk cannot be a Turk while there are English people and others about to tell him what they think of him. Everywhere, I trust, there is so much power about the Christian religion, that if the blaze of Christian light once falls upon an intolerable evil, it will continue to expose it until it dies. I feel very glad, therefore, that Mr. Cook took it into his head to go and visit prisons. I know him as an evangelist at Hyde Park, preaching there. I have had to know him through some persons who have been converted there, and who have afterwards come to join the Church at the Tabernacle ; and I have felt very grateful that God has put him to work in that part of London. I have also had sympathy from him in time of trouble, for which I have felt grateful. He is the Howard of the day, and I call earnest attention to his remarkable work. May our Lord greatly bless him ! I feel that it is quite a proper time now, that any one who can tell us anything about prisons in Spain, or Algiers, or Egypt, — Eastern prisons, — should tell it to us all, that we may all know about it, and that the papers may know about it, and that the world may know about it, so that if there be any cruelty hidden away, it may be exposed to light ; and the very exposure is the best means of removing it. I wish to him good health in his journeys, and that when he comes out of a sickening prison he may soon get over it. It is not the nicest thing in all the world to- INTR OD UCTION. ix go into a place full of filth, full of vermin, — which is a more horrible thing than filth, — sometimes full of fever, and other pestilential diseases. It is not a very hand- some way of spending a holiday ; but Mr. Cook has spent his holidays so, and he has taken the Word of God with him whenever he gets a chance of any person receiving it. I hope that all who know Mr. Cook will become so interested in prisons, that they will wish to help him in this good work of carrying the Word of God to those who have no other comfort, and of endeavour- ing, as well, to break away their chains, and give them as much hope, and light, and comfort, as can be given to men shut up when charged with crime, many of them waiting for trial year after year, and yet never tried ; and who may be as innocent as we are, but are yet kept in prison, waiting the good pleasure of some despot who has not time, just now, to attend to prisoners, and set them free ; but is amusing himself with some freak of his own will, instead of minding his business. C. H. SPURGEON. CONTENTS. ' PART I. CHAP. PAGE I. HISTORIC PRISONS — PAST AND PRESENT i II. PRISON STORIES 14 III. A ROMANTIC PRISON STORY 22 IV. THE LANGUAGE AND POETRY OF THIEVES ... 29 V. PENAL SERVITUDE 35 VI. PRISON EXPERIENCES 43 VII. THE STORY OF AN EVENTFUL LIFE 55 VIII. SENTENCES 63 IX. PRISON SYSTEMS COMPARED AND CONTRASTED . . 68 X. DISCHARGED PRISONERS 86 XI. NEEDED REFORMS 90 PART II. I. NEWGATE 100 II. OTHER PRISONS — CONVICT AND LOCAL GAOLS . . 109 III. OTHER CONVICT PRISONS 117 xii CONTENTS. •CHAP. PAGE IV. IRISH PRISONS ... .126 V. FRENCH PRISONS . . 130 VI. PRISONS OF ITALY i38 VII. EGYPTIAN PRISONS. ... 142 VIII. BAVARIA, GREECE, AUSTRIA, HUNGARY, WURTEMBERG, AND GERMANY 145 IX. MOROCCO .15° X. THE PRISONS OF SPAIN. . 154 XI. AMERICAN PRISONS . 157 XII. THE PRISONS OF RUSSIA . .160 XIII. HOLLAND, GERMANY, DENMARK, AND SWEDEN 173 XIV. FINLAND .186 XV. RUSSIA REVISITED 19° MR. CHAS. COOK. THE PRISONS OF THE WORLD. PA RT I. CHAPTER I. HISTORIC PRISONS — PAST AND PRESENT. WHAT memories hang about some of these places ! What were the feelings, thoughts, and sufferings of those who were imprisoned in them ? What miseries endured ! What tears have been shed ' like drops of blood from wounded hearts ' ! Such thoughts have passed through my mind as I have passed through the prisons of the Inquisition of Venice and Spain. What tales could they tell of persecution and bloodshed and torture ! And what shall be said of the CONCIERGERIE OF PARIS (only surpassed in notoriety by the dreaded Bastille of a century ago). This was the prison of the palace when it was used as a royal residence, and is still used as a prison. As I walked through its classic corridors that told of the times of the Revolution, I remembered that Marie Antoinette spent some two or three months there, and only left it for the scaffold ; and noted also is it as being the place where Robespierre was immured. Gloomy and dreadful are its portals ; solemn and sorrowful are the recollections it awakens. One other place in Paris calls for a moment's notice, La Roquette, 2 HISTORIC PRISONS— PAST AND PRESENT. the Newgate of Paris, where the Communists shot the Archbishop and his colleagues, and outside of which, when an execution takes place in the early morn, is seen such a sight as only Paris could furnish. One recollects seeing a public execution in London, but for noise and numbers, revellings and riotings, blasphemy and sin, the scene outside Newgate was not nearly so bad as can be seen in 1891 outside La Roquette. Who can gaze upon the BASS ROCK in the Firth of Forth without feelings of admiration for the brave sons of Scotland who languished in prison there ? Byron spent a day in one of the dungeons of Venice for inspiration ; and I confess it was the memories of brave men — those Covenanters of old — that led me to sail round this historic Isle a summer or two ago. Its height is stupendous, though less than the sixth of a mile in diameter. A fresh breeze had sprung up, which made it difficult to land, whilst thousands upon thousands of sea-fowl were dis- turbed as we neared the edge. A cavern runs through the centre of the Rock from north-west to south-east. It was formerly the property of a private family of the name of Lander, but Charles the Second in 1671 purchased it ; during whose reign, and that of his brother James the Second, it was made a state prison, where the Cameronians were confined for taking up arms against the King. In the reign of Elizabeth, Lambeth Palace was fre- quently used as a prison ; Tunstal, Bishop of Durham, and Thirleby, Bishop of Ely, deprived of their sees after the death of Mary, were here imprisoned, and here also they died, and were buried in the adjoining church. The Earl of Essex was also confined here for a short time, previously to his being sent to the Tower. This vener- able palace, as well as its owners, has experienced many reverses of fortune. In 1381, during the insurrection of Wat Tyler, when Simon of Sudbury, the Archbishop, was put to death, this building was very much injured by the insurgents. But the LOLLARDS' TOWER, so called from 4 HISTORIC PRISONS— PAST AND PRESENT. its having been the place of confinement for the persecuted followers of Wickliffe, is to me the most interesting part of the palace. It is a massive building of stone ; and was reared by the bigoted Henry Chicheley in 1435. I climbed one day to the topmost story of the Tower, and entered the apartment where the brave reformers, the Lollards, had been imprisoned. It is a small room, wain- scotted with oak, on which many broken sentences and initials are rudely carved, — the work of lonely captives in silent hours of solitude and sadness. I noticed a number of large iron rings in the walls and floor, which were used for securing the inmates ; true mementoes of the bigotry of former days. For historic interest, however, no place (at least for Englishmen) can compare with the TOWER of London, which was for centuries a royal palace and a state prison. As a palace, the early history of the Tower is, in fact, the history of the English Court. Almost from the Conquest to the expulsion of the Stuart dynasty, the Tower was used as a royal palace. But what makes it of greater interest — sad and sorrowful as the memories are, base and bloody as the dark deeds of the past were — is the fact that for eight hundred years it was the great state prison of England. Walk through its dismal cells and corridors ; explore only some of its seventy or eighty dungeons ; send thy mind back and remember the hundreds of innocent men and women who have at times been the occupants of those places, and who have been unjustly charged and punished ; and as you think of its having been the home of Chaucer, Bacon, Raleigh, Russell, and Sidney, and hundreds of others, you may well say with Mr. Hepworth Dixon, ' The saddest pages in our country's history are to be found scratched on the walls of the dungeons in the Tower of London.' The principal object the eye rests upon as you stand upon Tower Hill is the old square tower built by the Conqueror ; the turrets at the corners were formerly used as cells for the confinement of prisoners of the highest THE BEAUCHAMP-TOWER. 5 rank. One can only mention a few of the other parts of this marvellous place, such as the Bell-tower, the Bloody- tower, the Flint-tower, the Devereaux-tower, the Lanthorn- tower, and last, but far from least, the Beauchamp-tower. Here let us enter for a few minutes. I have stood on many classic spots during my life, — on Mars Hill, where RALEIGH'S CHAMBER. Paul preached, on the Pnyx where Demosthenes orated, in the Mamertine prison where the Apostle languished, on the spot where Napoleon looked on a burning Moscow, and on the Alps where Hannibal crossed, — but nothing stirred my feelings (except it were Chillon) as the Beau- champ-tower. Saddest of all cells ! most solemn of all prisons ! It is almost covered with inscriptions. Think 6 HISTORIC PRISONS— PAST AND PRESENT. of some few who were confined here : Lady Jane Grey and her husband, Guildford Dudley. Brave Lady Jane ! entering the Tower as a Queen, a few days later a prisoner and no Queen ; never guilty and never knowing fear, and in the most trying hour God-supported, thou wert a woman of whom we have a right to feel proud. Her husband was led under her window to execution on Tower Hill. As he passed she waved her hand, a last token of her constant love ; a few moments later she saw his headless trunk carried by in a cart. The sight only inspired her with fresh courage. ' O Guildford ! Guildford ! ' she exclaimed, as her eyes followed the be- loved form, ' the ante-repast is not so bitter that thou hast tasted, and I shall soon taste, as to make me tremble ; it is nothing compared to that feast of which we shall this day partake in Heaven.' In a few moments the headsman appeared for her, and thus she passed away, bequeathing a maxim to a friend who begged a memorial of her in the following words, ' LIVE TO DIE.' Time and space hinder me from speaking of other illustrious persons who were imprisoned here, but before we leave this place look at one or two of the inscriptions. Here is the shortest, IANE, the supposed work of Lady Jane. Now look at another — Thomas Miagh, which lieth here alone, That faine would from hence be gone ; and yet one other — 1585. Thomas Baudewin. Juli. As virtue maketh life, so sin causeth death. Not far from here we see Traitors' Gate. Proudest of nobles, fairest of women, bravest of men, have passed into the Tower by this Water Gate, never to leave it, till led to the scaffold. Now let us leave this huge fortress, which has held as many as a thousand prisoners at one time, and coming out once again on to Tower Hill, recall to mind some of those whose heads have rolled from off their shoulders here, — the beautiful Anne Boleyn ; the ambitious FAMOUS INMATES OF THE TOWER. 7 Catherine Howard ; the noble Margaret, Countess of Salisbury. The Tower has also been the prison of William Wallace, and Bruce, King of Scotland, — names of which Scotland may well be proud, — and the celebrated martyr, Anne Askew, who whilst here was put to the rack ; and time would fail me to tell of Cranmer, and Latimer, and Jeremy Taylor, of William Penn for preaching in the streets, and TRAITORS GATE. hosts of others : I have but mentioned the names of a few who suffered in this historic prison. The Castle of St. Angelo, on the banks of the Tiber, has been for many years a prison : in it have been confined Beatrice Cenci Cellini and Cagliostro ; and, in more recent years, Napoleon III. As a building it dates from the time of the Emperor Hadrian, who erected it as a mausoleum for himself and family, and it was completed in A.D. 140. This was the last resting-place of the above family, and there may still be seen the niches where once stood the 8 HISTORIC PRISONS— PAST AND PRESENT. urns which would have received their dust. The Castle is now used as a military prison. The same day that I visited the Castle, I also went down into the Mamertine prison, where it is generally believed the Apostle Paul was confined, — a dark and gloomy place, but which was lit up by the presence of the Lord of Light and Glory : a prison truly, but a prison that speaks of the faith of one whose labours for his Master only ended with his death. I close this chapter with an account of a visit I made to the prison of Chillon on the Lake of Geneva. The Castle of Chillon is a grand old place, noble and majestic, as viewed from the outside, and though built a thousand years ago, seems as strong and perfect as the day it was erected. The interior is equally magnificent and more impressive. Bonnivard, the prisoner, was born in 1496 at Seyssel, was educated at Turin, and at the age of sixteen received from his uncle the rich Priory of St. Victor and the lands attached thereto. Being of liberal opinions, he became obnoxious to the Duke of Savoy, who in 1523 attacked Geneva; Bonnivard threw himself with all his power of mind and body into the work of freeing the Genevese from the Savoyard yoke, but he was seized by the Duke's emissaries and carried off to the Castle of Grolee, and confined for two years. No sooner was he released than he again made a strenuous effort to advance the principles of the Republic and the cause of liberty. Again, in 1530, he fell into the hands of the Duke of Savoy, and was secretly taken to the dungeons of Chillon, without a parting word to friends or relations, to wife or betrothed (it is not known for certain whether he was then married), who were ignorant of his whereabouts, or whether he was alive or not. Here he was confined for years in the deep dungeon hewn in the solid rock, chained to one of the massive pillars, and never once during those years of torture was he released from the chains which bound him there ; dragging his clanking chain's along, he could lo HISTORIC PRISONS— PAST AND PRESENT. just walk two or three steps either way, and in so doing has worn the stony floor quite hollow in places. The Castle is washed by the waters of the lake, and is built on a rock close to the shore, to which it is connected by a wooden bridge. Entering by an old gateway, I passed straight into the two dungeons. They are of equal length. I paced them, and found them both to be about a hundred INTERIOR OF CHILLON. and twenty-one feet long and thirty-four feet wide; was shown the ring attached to one of the large pillars to which Bonnivard was chained those weary years, and the hollow places in the rocky ground worn by the poor prisoner's walking to and fro continually as far as his chains per- mitted ; but for the guide being with me, I could have wept for very sympathy. I was delighted with my visit ; it was worth going from England to see that alone. The dungeons were more like underground cathedrals, and CttlLLON 'AND SONNIVARD. it constructed, or rather hewn out, as though they were made to last for eternity ; not a stone seems lost or out of place. The exterior appears as though it were built but a few years ago, so new and perfect does it look, whilst the magnificent underground prisons would well serve their purpose now as they did then. The guide showed me also the torture chamber ; the beam where the criminals were hanged ; the smaller dungeon, between the two large ones, where the prisoners spent the night before they were executed ; the Oubliette — a trap-door with a few steps descending, to which the poor prisoner would be led by his gaoler, and told he was free, and might descend to liberty ; in semi-darkness, one — two — three steps were taken, and the man was precipitated upon sharp instru- ments, from which he would fall into the lake below. There is besides a grand old dining-hall seventy-five feet long, with open fireplaces of the most ancient style, a few tattered banners, and a number of old matchlocks or muskets on shelves surrounding the place. The names of Byron, Victor Hugo, Dickens, and others, had been cut upon the pillars of the dungeon, but, to me, it seemed a desecration of the place. I was thinking of the sufferings and sorrows of Bonnivard. CHILLON.* CHILLON, thy prison walls have spoken To my spirit, And I have felt for him who, thro' Those weary years, Did linger on, in that most awful, yet Imposing place, Illumined only by the 'dim and ghastly light' Another speaks of, as tho' a sunbeam After many years had lost its way, And found an entrance in Thy gloomy but majestic vaults. With gladness and with sorrow joined I pace thy prison house, Full six score feet and more, from end to end. * Written on the diligence whilst travelling from Chamounix to Geneva, after visiting the Castle of Chillon. 12 HISTORIC PRISONS— PAST AND PRESENT. But he was chained to pillar firm By cruel bands of iron, And could but drag his clanking chains, Of steps a few, this way and that, Till he had worn thy stony floor, In places here and there, quite hollow. Bonnivard ! my brother-man ! My spirit hath had fellowship with thee. The mem'ry of thy sufferings and thy wrongs Hath struck a chord within, And tears unbidden from a heart surcharged Would fain o'erflow— and weep ; But I am mindful of the presence of another, The hireling who hath led me here, Who might mistake a sympathy divine within me For weakness of the man. Poor Bonnivard ! How thou didst suffer ! What were thy thoughts? Of whom wert thinking? Haclst thou no loved one Who, in years gone by, was called to share ' Thy love, thy joys, thy sorrows, and thy care ' ? If so, I pity thee indeed, For it would make thy prison two. Thy sufferings thou wouldst bear with manly courage, But thy poor mind upon the rack, Thy tortured brain would suffer more Than limbs to pillar bound ; As thinking oft of her, wouldst wonder, ' Is't well with her? (as far as she's concerned). Where is she? What are her thoughts? Wondering, perhaps, if I am living still, Or numbered with the dead.' Such thoughts as these, and thousands more, Would crowd that busy brain, that naught else Had to do but think ; and thinking oft, And oft again, till in that mind Did chaos almost reign. Still thoughts of how she'd think, and feel for him, And suffer for his sake, And his own thoughts of her, Would mingle so, That reason well might tremble on her throne, Till kindly sleep would cast her mantle o'er him, And he would rest ; yet sleeping, chance to dream ; Till wakened, perhaps, by jailor rude, And brought into another day's Uncertainty and sorrow. Poor Bonnivard ! Ages have hurried by since then, But thou art not forgotten. What tho' full many a year has passed adown The gulf of Time, and moons have waxed and waned, THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK. 13 Casting their pallid light upon the stream, My sympathy the chasm leaps, And, standing with thee on the other side, Our spirits blend in one. Standing out on the beautiful blue waters of the Medi- terranean, some few miles from the south coast of France, is the Isle of St. Marguerite. I had walked from the farther side of the island to that point nearest the main- land where is to be seen the Castle and Prison of the Man with the Iron Mask, who was herein confined for fourteen years. It is a good-sized, but somewhat gloomy dungeon, having three distinct gratings built into the window, the walls being three feet thick. Many have been the conjectures as to who this mysterious being really was, but he was generally supposed to have been the twin-brother of Louis Quatorze. The strange part of his punishment was he always wore an iron mask ; hence the name which history has given him. He succeeded in getting a silver dish — on which he had scratched his name — out of the window, which, falling to the foot of the rock by the seashore, fell into the hands of a peasant who could not read, and who gave it to the governor of the Castle. After languishing here for many years, he was trans- ferred to the Bastille, where he died after ten more long weary years of solitary confinement. This particular prison has another story to tell of more recent date ; for here it was where Marshal Bazaine was immured, and from whence he escaped, by the aid, rumour said, of some fair English ladies, whilst others admit it was connived at by the authorities. A perilous escape it must have been, for he descended the steep cliff on which the prison is built by a rope to the shore, where friends were waiting for him with a boat. A large number of Moors from Oran (French prisoners of war) were located on the island when I visited it, who seemed to have plenty of liberty to wander about the place. One handsome fellow was nursing a baby which belonged to the wife of one of the soldiers, nor would he part with it, exclaiming, ' Toujours mon camarade.' CHAPTER II. PRISON STORIES. ' T T OW old are you, Victor ? ' J. J. ' I am twenty-seven.' The gentleman who asked the question was the governor of one of her Majesty's convict prisons, who was conducting me round the establishment, and the man who answered was a convict under sentence of twenty years' penal servitude. ' Have you heard from your mother lately ? ' ' Yes, I had a letter from her a week or two ago.' The mentioning the word ' mother ' almost unmanned • him, and I turned from him to the governor and inquired into the circumstances. He was a Swede who in a drunken row on the high seas had struck a fellow-seaman with a knife. Sequel : twenty years' imprisonment, and separation from a loving mother for that time, to say nothing of her sorrow. O drink ! how much have we to lay at thy door ! PORTSMOUTH. Passing through the carpenters' shop, I noticed an intelligent-looking man at work ; and seeing by his arm he was a ' lifer ' — by the letter ' L ' being there in place of a figure or a number — I inquired the cause, and was told, 'Manslaughter'; and within a quarter of an hour I had spoken to two other convicts whose cases were almost identical. One of them said, ' I woke up one morning in a police cell, and when the constable brought me some 14 INFIDELITY AND CRIME. 15 breakfast I asked him what I was there for, and he answered, ' Murder.' I thought he was joking, and asked him to tell me what I was locked up for, and he said, ' Last night you were brought in drunk and charged with the murder of a fellow-workman.' It was too true. I was tried and sentenced to death, but it was commuted to a life sentence ; but, sir, I have no more recollection fof having killed a man than you have.' The three cases cited above were so alike that in telling one I have explained the three. INFIDELITY. ' I should never have been here but for the teaching of infidelity.' So spake a young convict whilst in Penton- ville, and many have borne a similar testimony. Ah ! my friend, would that you were the only one who thus regretted being led away by such false teaching, which only leads to open sin or vice. Many, very many, who languish in ' durance vile,' attribute their downward career to listening to such as deny the God of Revelation ; they became law- less in proportion as they threw off the* fear of God, and now bitterly repent having imbibed infidel doctrines. Listen to the testimony of one as recorded in The British Workman : — ' I am one of thirteen infidels : what has become of my friends ? I will tell you. One became a Christian, six were sentenced to long terms of penal servitude, four were hanged, one is in the cell above, a prisoner for life, and / am to be hanged to-morrow ! ' We charge infidelity with being the cause of largely augmenting the number of the 'dangerous classes,' and when anarchy shall have spread itself still more widely o'er our much-loved land, it will be seen that it drew the greater number of its recruits from men who have tried to persuade themselves there was no God, no judgment, and no future punishment. We bless the Author of our common Christianity for making His people the ' salt of the earth ' and the Mights of the world.' 1 6 PRISON STORIES. H.M. PRISON, NEWGATE. ' Twenty years' penal servitude.' He left the dock of the Old Bailey, and was led through the corridor into Newgate; and, speaking of it in after years, he said, ' There on my cell wall was the card : it bore my name and my sentence — " twenty years." No wife to cheer, no children to prattle at my knee. " Twenty years ! " O God ! will it ever end ? " Twenty years ! " — two hundred and forty months, — one thousand and forty weeks; oh, this dread future ! My brain reeled, reason tottered on her throne, and I had well-nigh become insane.' Reader ! if the thought of the long sentence nearly drove this poor prisoner mad, what would be our feelings and our thoughts if we were banished from God's loving presence for ever ? 1 My husband is to be tried this morning : will you go and speak a word for him ? ' I hastened to the Old Bailey, saddened at heart to think that an old companion of my own was to be tried ; one well brought up and with good prospects in life — yet here he stood at the Old Bailey. Before I reached the court he was sentenced to ' five years,' which I thought was very severe for his crime, and specially as it was a first offence. Poor Harry ! he seemed, as I wished him good-bye after visiting him in Newgate, as though he could hardly believe it. His fast life and drink had greatly injured his health, and I wondered if ever he would live to come out again : another proof of the curse of strong drink. I could only implore him to let this awful trial bring him to Christ, and left him after bidding him seek God in his terrible trouble. H.M. CONVICT PRISON, CHATHAM. A batch of convicts has just arrived from London, where they have just finished their nine months of solitary 'CITY GENTLEMEN* AS NAVVIES. 17 confinement, and are now about to enter upon some years of servitude on the Public Works. ' What are you ? ' asked one of the officials, addressing the first prisoner. ' A carpenter.' ' All right, you will be put in the carpenters' shop.' 'And you?' ' A stonemason, sir.' ' Very well ; officer, take him over to the stone-cutters yard.' ' And what are you two ? ' One replied, ' I am a lawyer by profession, and do not know any trade.' The other answered, 'I have been manager of a City firm, and have never done any manual labour in my life.' ' Well, we must make navvies of you ; you'll soon pick it up.' This appears rather hard on the lawyer and the manager, and it is a great question whether this method does not stand in need of alteration. Let us see how it worked in this instance. Three years passed away, the manager doing the work of a navvy ; but at the end of that time he weighed seventy-two pounds less, and had been in the infirmary seventy-four days, and felt sure he would never live to complete his sentence of ' five years' penal servitude.' Having seen the prisons of very many countries in Europe, Africa, and America, I am glad to be able to say there are few prisons which are better managed than our own, but I must say there are some grave defects in our own system, and I think this is one. The relations of the poor man above, on visiting him, were alarmed and distressed at his appearance, and, hearing that I was interested in prison matters, sought my help and sympathy. Finding he had never once been reported, that he bore the best of characters, and that, better still, God in His mercy had led him to deep repentance, and that he was evidently a changed man, I wrote to the Secretary of i8 PRISON STORIES. State on his behalf, promising to look after the man, and praying him to extend mercy to this prisoner. My letter was also endorsed by a high dignitary of the City of London. A few days brought me an answer from the Home Secretary, telling me the case should be ' carefully seen into.' A week or two later the following reached me : — nth April, 1885. MR. CHARLES COOK, — DEAR SIR, — It is with deep emotion of gratitude and thank- fulness that I pen these few lines to humbly thank you for your exceeding great goodness and mercy to me and my dear wife and children, in having so graciously interested yourself upon my behalf, which I shall ever remember with thankfulness. I was liberated very late Tuesday evening (yth), and you will quite understand my not writing to you before this. I can scarcely believe yet that I am once again a free man. I assure you that I shall ever endeavour to redeem the past by the help of God, who, in His infinite mercy, sent me from the world, and now has restored me to my home and friends. If you would allow me to come and have an interview with you, I should be very pleased. I can then open my heart to you, and your advice and counsel will be very dear to me. Am very happy to say that since my liberation I have and am still receiving so much kindness from friends, and also that my health is wonderfully improved. Hoping that you will shortly allow me an interview, and humbly asking that you will remember me and mine in prayer, Allow me to remain, Your most obedient servant, G H. I have recently returned from visiting one of her Majesty's convict establishments, and, having been shown round the place by one of the highest officials, was glad to hear from his lips of the results of his quiet testimony and life among the inmates. A convict, while cleaning windows in the apartments of an official, noticed the text over the bed, ' He is our peace,' and thought to himself, ' Why should He not be my peace ? ' and, in the quiet of his lonely cell, sought the Saviour in His Word, and proved the reality of his conversion to God by his after-life. ' Had you been here,' said my friend who was conduct- A PRISONER AND HIS MOUSE. ig ing me round, ' a few days ago, I could have shown you a man who has just served twenty years' penal servitude, who left this prison without a single mark against his character, and who, I have no doubt, has found the Saviour and learned to love Him since he was first im- prisoned. A more consistent Christian I have seldom seen.' It is remarkable how the temperaments of some of the prisoners are evidenced, and how softening, if not refining, are the influences of what we should call little things, which are, however, of great moment to men who live where talking is strictly forbidden, and companionship is practically unknown. Let us stand in this corner of the exercising yard at the usual hour when the men take their daily walk. ' Party ' after ' party ' make their appearance, amidst the chattering of a score or two of sparrows, who sit upon the wall as though they were quite expecting their dinner ; and sure enough they do, for no sooner have the fourth ' party' of men marched into the yard than all the sparrows have swooped down into the centre of the convicts who are walking round, and are busily engaged pecking up the handfuls of crumbs which have been thrown to them ; the prisoners apparently as much pleased as the birds. The last lot of men were the cooks from the kitchen, but how the sparrows distinguish them is a mystery. This daily sight is humanising to the men, though it is contrary to red tape. Look ! what has this man up his sleeve ? He has no right to have anything there ; but, as he will not be ' rubbed down ' (searched) before he goes to his cell, he has brought a friend out for an airing. When his dinner consisting of a pint of good soup, eight ounces of bread, and one pound of potatoes, has been brought in and the door closed, Mr. Mouse walks down his arm, sits upon the table, and prepares to see the meal fairly shared. Man and mouse have been friends for many months, and there would be sorrow of heart if they were to part company. Even when the morning of discharge comes, 20 PRISON STORIZS. a special plea is, ' Please, sir, may I be allowed to take my mouse out ? ' The answer has sometimes been, ' Oh ! I see, you purpose to lessen the number of inmates of the prison ; you, of course, are at liberty to go, but ' the face of the prisoner changes, but a smile breaks over the countenance of the governor, and with a sound word of advice, and a loving invitation to the Saviour, convict and mouse pass into the outer world. The most striking testimony to the power of the Gospel I have ever heard came from this particular prison. About twelve years ago a man received a ' life sentence ' ; and his own testimony, some six years after, was, ' As the door of my cell closed behind me, my whole life rose before me. Sinking on my knees, I rested on the mercy of God through Jesus Christ our Lord, and, though I have no hope in this world, I have never had a dark hour since.' My friend's testimony concerning him is, ' We have had no report against him since he has been here, and from my daily knowledge of him, I can say he is a quiet, con- tented, bright, and happy follower of Christ.' Getting into a railway carriage near a certain town in England, we observed a young fellow attentively reading his Bible. His hair, being suspiciously short, marked him as a gaol-bird 'growing his feathers.' Venturing to ask why he took such an interest in the Word of God, he volunteered the following story : — ' In a moment of temptation I fell, was tried, and sentenced to a term of penal servitude. There was in the prison a young assistant-chaplain, whose duties took him past the cell where I was at work. His look of sympathy always cheered me ; and, though his duties did not allow him to visit the prisoners in that part of the gaol, I often saw him looking kindly at me. Once I saw a tear on his cheek. I felt I could die for that man, and, as I wondered what I could do to please him, the thought struck me that he would be pleased to see me reading my Bible. The next morning, when he passed by my half-open cell door, he looked in, saw me reading, and A PENITENT'S LETTER. 21 smiled. I continued to read regularly, discovered my condition as a lost sinner, trembled, on further study found the Saviour, and then rejoiced. I have never spoken to that young clergyman, nor does he know of my change of heart, but I owe my conversion to the tear on his cheek, which led me to search the Scriptures. 