With the last re-edification of Newgate, a work executed some seven centuries after the first stone of the old gaol was laid, the architectural records of the prison end. Nothing much was done at Newgate in the way of building, outside or inside, after 1862. The Act for private executions led to the erection of the gallows shed in the exercising yard, and at the flank of the passage from the condemned cells. The first "glass house," or room in which prisoners could talk in private with their attorneys, and still be seen by the warder on the watch, had been constructed, and others were subsequently added. But no structural alterations were made from the date first quoted until in 1902 the prison ceased to exist as such. A few words will suffice in closing the record of this old-world prison, which after seven centuries of existence has no longer a place in the heart of the great overgrown city. It has been crowded out, the space it occupied was far too limited and yet too valuable to remain the centre of Metropolitan criminal procedure. It was imperative that the famous assize court of the Old Bailey should be enlarged and the ground upon which the prison stood was urgently needed for extension. The chief prison authority, the State itself which had administered to the powers so long exercised by local jurisdiction, decided to remove the last vestige of prison business from the ancient site. A prison already standing in the suburb of Brixton was enlarged and appropriated to meet the purposes which Newgate had fulfilled almost to the last. For it continued until yesterday to serve as the last resting place of malefactors condemned to death. It was still the succursal of the assize court, sheltering the accused during the trial and holding them after conviction until they stood finally under the drop and the fatal bolt was drawn. But Newgate in 1882 ceased to be more than a temporary prison receiving lodgers about to take the last long journey from which no traveller returns, and in this way old Newgate continued to be associated with all capital offences in London. Many pages might still be filled with painful stories often reproducing almost exactly the criminal episodes of the past and proving that there is literally nothing new under the sun. The latest Newgate records exhibited the same fatal consequences of overpowering greed, unappeasable rage, brutal passions uncontrolled; the same fierce thirst for vengeance; the same bitter jealousy, only to be assuaged in blood under the maddened impulse of minds on the borderland of insanity. Great crimes may be rarer nowadays, but they still present the same familiar features as of old, and will no doubt do so while the world lasts. * * * * *