'Truly, if it did, we should have the prisons cleared. There should be no more throwing away of good lives in hanging; no more waste of stout fellows and lusty wenches by fever and small-pox. All should go to the Plantations--all. Now, Madam, to our business, which is the advantage of these young gentlemen. Know, therefore, that Mr. Jerome Nipho, with all those who have received presents of prisoners, straightway sells them to persons who engage to transport them across the seas to his Majesty's Plantations in Jamaica, Virginia, or elsewhere. There they are bound to work for a certain term of years. Call it not work, however,' he added quickly; 'say rather that they are invited every day to exercise themselves in the cotton and the sugar fields. The climate is delightful; the sky is seldom clouded; there are never any frosts or snows; it is always summer; the fruits are delicious; they have a kind of spirit distilled from the sugar canes which is said to be finer and more wholesome than the best Nantz; the food is palatable and plentiful, though plain. The masters or employers (call them rather friends) are gentlemen of the highest humanity, and the society is composed of sober merchants, wealthy planters, and gentlemen, like your brother, who have had the misfortune to differ in opinions from the Government.' 'Why, Sir,' I said, 'I have always understood that the transported prisoners are treated with the greatest inhumanity: forced to work in heat such as we never experience, driven with the lash, and half-starved, so that none ever come back.' He shook his head gently. 'See now,' he said, 'how prejudices arise. Who could have thought that the Plantations should be thus regarded? 'Tis true that there are estates cultivated by convicts of another kind--I mean robbers, highwaymen, petty thieves, and the like. Bristol doth every year send away a shipload at least of such. Nay, 'tis reported that rather than hang murderers and the like the Bristol merchants buy them of the magistrates; but this is out of the kindness of their hearts. Madam,' he thrust his hand into his bosom and looked me in the face, 'I myself am sometimes engaged in that trade. I myself buy these unhappy prisoners and send them to estates where I know they will be treated with the greatest kindness. Do I look like a dishonest man, Madam? As for my name it is George Penne, and I am known to every man of credit in Bristol. Do I talk like one who would make money out of his neighbours' sufferings? Nay, if that is so, let us part at once and say no more. Madam, your humble servant--no harm is done: your humble servant, madam.' He put his hat under his arm, and made as if he would go; but I begged him to remain, and to advise me further in the matter. Then I asked him if transported persons ever came home again.