I used almost daily to see these loathsome objects, either before admission or after three days’ retirement, and it is difficult to say which is the most revolting. On admission, and previous to treatment, I have seen three or four of these unclean things waiting to be admitted. During this time—often an hour and more—they sit in the convalescent ward, use the furniture, and circulate with the others. This surely is wrong, and may justly be laid to the charge of negligent warders! On leaving they are again taken through the ward, devoid of all covering but the saturated blanket, and conducted to a bath. This bath is a fixture in the hospital kitchen. YES, the _itch bath_ in the principal prison of civilized London _is in the hospital kitchen_! I have seen these social pariahs splashing about within a few feet of the kitchen fire, whilst a rice pudding was being made—an appetizing accompaniment to the preparation of human food. This gross outrage on cleanliness must fairly be charged to the Home Office people; and as the kitchen is situated in the main thoroughfare, and passed through almost daily by visiting justices or prison commissioners, it is clearly no official’s business to point it out—and if a surgeon represented it he would probably be told to mind his own business. This is in conformity with prison usage, and anyone mentioning, or taking apparent interest in a trifle not actually connected with his special department, is at once suspected of some sinister motive. I have heard officials regret this disgusting institution, and their inability to remedy it.