We ring the bell—hand in, through a window, our letter of introduction—are ushered into a wooden cage in which the janitor sits—enter our name in a book, and sit down. The officers, consisting of about 160 men, exclusive of a small guard of soldiers, are coming in from dinner. In appearance they somewhat resemble our Coast-guard, are tall fine men, with very red faces, and big black bushy whiskers. The principal warden came to receive us; he has been here ever since the place has been opened, and we could not have had a better guide, or one more competent to explain to us the nature of the important works carried on. And now we have passed into the very prison itself, and stand surrounded by men who have committed almost every species of crime. There are some fifteen hundred of them here from all parts of England; stupid peasants from Suffolk and Norfolk, and clever rascals (these latter are very troublesome) from London, and Birmingham, and Liverpool, and other busy centres of industry, and intelligence, and life. Says our informant, We have a good many captains in the army here, and several merchants, nor are we surprised at the information. When we entered, the men had just dined, and were collected in the yard previous to being examined and walked off in gangs, under the charge of their respective officers, to work. The gangs consisted of various numbers, of from fifteen to thirty; each officer felt each man, to see that nothing was hidden, and examined his number to see that it was all right, and as each gang marches through the gate, the officer calls out the number of the gang, and the number of men it contains, to the chief officer, who enters it in his book. As soon as this operation was over, the gangs marched out, some to quarry stones for the Breakwater below; and others, by far the larger number, to construct the enormous barricades and fortifications which the Government has ordered as a defence for that part of the world. The prisoners who cannot stand this hard work are employed in mending clothes, in making shoes, in baking, and brewing, in the school-room, and other offices necessary in such an enormous establishment. In this latter employment no less a personage than Sir John Dean Paul had been occupied till very recently. The scene was a busy one; all around us were convicts—here quarrying, there employed in the manufacture of tools, or in carpenters’s or masons’s work—all working well, and many of them cheerful in spite of the presence of an official, and little apparently heeding the sentry standing near with loaded gun ready to shoot, if need be, a runaway. We have heard gentlemen say that at Bermuda and at Gibraltar, the convicts will not work. All we can say is, that at Portland they do, and so effectually, as to cost the country but little more than four or five pounds a year. Our out door inspection over, we then went over the sleeping apartments, and the chapel, and the kitchen, and laundry, and bakery.