In some case of theft, minor assault, disturbing the peace, and other offences which indicate a momentary and not very serious lapse of self-control, or perhaps a somewhat vague conception of the supremacy of the law, fines serve all the purposes of justice. A four-fold restitution for all damage done might be taken as a standard to be increased or diminished in exceptional cases. In all these instances the culprit should be made to pay the fine himself even though it should require a fairly lengthy period in which to liquidate it. Section 16 of The New Zealand Criminal Code provides that the Court may exercise its own discretion in imposing a fine upon any person whose offence rendered them liable to a term of imprisonment. There are many cases, however, even of first offenders, in which fining is quite useless. =Imprisonment.=--So much has been written describing the various prison systems in vogue in different parts of the world that it is unnecessary to do much more than briefly outline them here. (1). The congregate system. In which the prisoners are associated together by day or by night or by both. Were the object to convert the prison into a school of crime, no better system could be devised. The standard of the lowest is the standard which must prevail under the congregate system. (2). The solitary system. The extreme opposite of the congregate system. The prisoners are allowed to have practically no communication with anyone whomsoever. In some countries this system is made indescribably cruel. At Santiago in Chili in one part of the prison the inmates are employed upon useful work under most humane conditions, and yet in another part of the very same building a most barbarous system exists. Mr F. B. Ward (quoted in Penological and Preventive Principles) describes what he saw in 1893:--"In this splendid model institution there are noisome, slimy cells, where daylight never enters, in which human beings are literally buried alive. Under the massive arches of enormously thick walls, where even in the outside rooms perpetual twilight reigns, are inner cells, two feet wide by six feet long, and destitute of a single article of furniture. Until recently, those confined in them were walled in, the bricks being cemented in places over the living tomb. Now there is a thick iron door, which is securely nailed up and then fastened all around with huge clamps, exactly as the vaults are closed in Santiago Cemetery, and over all the great red seal of the Government is placed--not to be removed until the man is dead, or his sentence has expired. The tiny grated window is covered by several thicknesses of closely-woven wire netting, making dense darkness inside, so that the prisoners cannot tell night from day. There is no ventilation except through this netting, and no opening whatever to admit outside air into the tomb. Low down in the iron door, close to the ground, is a tiny sliding panel a foot long by a few inches wide