6 A.M. —Rise. 6.30 „ —Breakfast. 7 „ —Take down the day’s work, and receive a fresh supply. 8 to 9 „ —Exercise. 9 „ —Chapel (three times a week). 12 noon —Dinner. 5 P.M. —Supper. 8 „ —Bed. 8.30 „ —Lights out. [Picture: A Cell. 8 P.M.] A slight difference existed between the regulation here and at Newgate on the subject of “lights out.” At Coldbath it was a serious offence to retire before 8 P.M. At Newgate it was, however, optional, though hampered with an absurd condition. One evening, at this latter awful place, I had determined on a comfortable read; with this object I undressed about 7 P.M., and, pulling my bed under the lamp, abandoned myself to the perusal of _Chambers’ Magazine_, for 1878. Barely, however, had I commenced, when “in a moment all was dark.” I ascertained next morning that it was a rule to put out the gas as soon as a man got into bed; whether from economical motives or as an extra mode of annoyance, I never troubled to ask. The brown bread, which was often warm from the oven, was as good as any I have ever tasted, and the quantity enough to satisfy anyone; and yet the ordinary prisoner would devour his and gratefully accept as much as anyone else would give him. I found that prisoners would do anything for food, and through my entire career I bartered it in exchange for soap, etc. Amongst other recipients of my bounty was a German Jew who lived near me. He spoke very little English, and as I speak German fluently, I often had a word with him. He told me the usual story about being sentenced for nothing; and though I did not believe a word of it, it led to his being put on my free list. A more voracious appetite I never met with, and the way he bolted half a pound of bread and three or four potatoes was truly appalling; indeed, so unsatisfactory was it, that I transferred my patronage after a week; one might as well have tried to fill Nelson’s monument. Giving away food is strictly prohibited—a regulation that necessitates certain precautions, commendable for their suitability rather than their cleanliness. The usual mode is for the donor to stuff bread, potatoes, or a lump of suet down his stocking or inside his shirt, and when time and circumstance permit, to transfer it to the recipient of his bounty, who in his turn first shoves it up his back or into his cap, to be transferred at leisure into the mouth or elsewhere. This manipulation never commended itself to me; and my rule, though not much more refined, had at least the advantage of avoiding any personal contact with the greasy dainties. I placed all my food in my pocket-handkerchief, and transferred it bodily in exchange for the others’. This rule only applied to the clean linen day, when I was enabled without delay to get rid of my brother-reprobate’s _mouchoir_. On other occasions I received their pocket-handkerchiefs clean, and