he was appraising the contents of his charming little suburban retreat. But what he revelled in were the commandments: “Thou shalt” and “Thou shalt not” were balm to the holy man, and I was always pleased to see him enjoying himself. A favourite dodge amongst prisoners, now pretty well played out, is to petition for a remission of sentence on the plea of conversion and regeneration. That such a circumstance should be flattering to the vanity of a man who is morally convinced of his incapacity for converting anything, is not to be wondered at, but the marvel is, how men with the varied experience of prison chaplains (I speak generally) should be gulled by such shallow artifices. That they are, however, is beyond dispute. I have met and conversed with many of these brands plucked from the burning, and my experience accords with that of many capable of forming an opinion, that they are matchless both in cunning and rascality. They are invariably tale-bearers, or what are known in the comprehensive criminal vocabulary as “creepers,” for they do creep up the back of any one foolish enough to confide in them, and as surely creep down the next official’s who is mean enough to encourage their tattle. These gentlemen are pretty well labelled, and I made it a practice to always preface my conversation with any of them by letting them understand they might tell “Gehazi,” or any one they pleased, all and everything I might happen to say. One glaring instance of the converted type that I often led into conversation told me that he was very sanguine on the subject of a remission of the remainder of his sentence; that one of the chaplains was “working it” for him; and, indeed, that he and many other likely to be well informed individuals, such as assistant-turnkeys and fellow-prisoners may be presumed to be, had assured him that his success was a foregone conclusion. I asked him how he succeeded in getting such “powerful” advocacy, and although at first he assumed the fervent style, he very soon relapsed into his normal condition on seeing that I looked on him as a humbug. He then proceeded to explain that he began by expressing a desire to see his chaplain in private, in hopes of satiating the thirst for peace of mind that gave him no rest; that this led to salutary advice and a fagot of tracts, and had ended in his partaking of the Holy Communion—I almost hesitate to repeat this rank blasphemy, and my only justification is its unexaggerated truth; indeed, I would not dare to write such horrors unless fortified by my veracity. He went on to add that it was awfully jolly, and that he generally received any surplus that might remain of the consecrated bread or wine.