Come, Bet, my pet, and Sal, my pal, a buss, and then farewell-- And Ned, the primest ruffling cove that ever nail’d a swell-- To share the swag, or chaff the gab, we’ll never meet again, The hulks is now my bowsing crib, the hold my dossing ken. Don’t nab the bib, my Bet, this chance must happen soon or later, For certain sure it is that transportation comes by natur; His lordship’s self, upon the bench, so downie his white wig in, Might sail with me, if friends had he to bring him up to priggin; And is it not unkimmon fly in them as rules the nation, To make us end, with Botany, our public edication? But Sal, so kind, be sure you mind the beaks don’t catch you tripping, You’ll find it hard to be for shopping sent on board the shipping: So tip your mauns afore we parts, don’t blear your eyes and nose, Another grip, my jolly hearts--here’s luck, and off we goes! Debtors’ prisons were in full swing. There were Whitecross Street Prison, built in 1813 for the exclusive reception of debtors, who were before this crowded together with criminals at Newgate; Queen’s Bench Prison, the Fleet, and the Marshalsea. The King’s Bench Prison was the largest, and, so to speak, the most fashionable of these prisons. Both at the King’s Bench and the Fleet debtors were allowed to purchase what were called the ‘Rules,’ which enabled them to live within a certain area outside the prison, and practically left them free. They paid a certain percentage on their debts. This practice enabled the debtor to refuse paying his debts, and to save his money for himself or his heirs. Lodgings, however, within the Rules were bad and expensive. [Illustration: NEWGATE--ENTRANCE IN THE OLD BAILEY] There was no national compulsory system of education; yet the children of respectable working men were sent to school. The children of the very poor, those who lived from hand to mouth by day jobs, by chance and luck, were not taught anything. If you talk to a working man of sixty or thereabouts, you will most likely discover that he can read, though he has very often forgotten how to write. He was taught when he was a child at the schools of the National Society, or at those of the British and Foreign Society, or at the parish schools, of which there were a great many. There were also many thousands of children who went to the Sunday School. Yet, partly through the neglect of parents, and partly through the demand for children’s labour in the factories, nearly a half of the children in the country grew up without any schooling. In 1837 there were forty per cent. of the men and sixty-five per cent. of the women who could not sign their own names.