‘BOW-STREET POLICE-COURT.—This day, two little children, whose heads hardly reached the top of the dock, were placed at the bar before Mr. Jardine, charged with stealing a loaf. Their very appearance told the want they were in. The housekeeper to Mr. Mims, baker, Drury Lane, deposed, that they, about eight o’clock last evening, went into the shop and asked for a quartern loaf, and while her back was turned to get it for them, they stole a half quartern loaf, value 2½_d._, which was lying on the counter, and made off with it. Police constable, F 14, deposed, that he was on duty in Drury Lane, and seeing them quarrelling over the loaf, he asked them where they had got it. One of them answered, they had stolen it. After ascertaining how they came by it, he took them into custody. In defence, the prisoners said they were starving. Mr. Jardine sentenced them both to be once whipped in the House of Correction.’ These children were without means, friends, or any sort of instruction. They were whipped then for their ignorance and want, for both which they are not responsible. After whipping and a few imprisonments they will doubtless be boarded and instructed by fellow prisoners into finished thieves. The authorities tell us, that five-eighths of the juvenile criminals—and a few become professional after the age of twenty—who are received into jails, have not received one spark of moral or intellectual training! These, and a thousand other facts too obvious for the common sense of our readers to be troubled with, induce us to recommend one other ‘great experiment’ which has never yet been tried. It has the advantage of being a preventive as well as a cure—it is—compared with all the penal systems now in practice—immeasurably safer, more humane, and incalculably cheaper. The ‘great experiment’ we propose, is NATIONAL EDUCATION. THE ORPHAN’S VOYAGE HOME. The men could hardly keep the deck, So bitter was the night; Keen north-east winds sang thro’ the shrouds, The deck was frosty white; While overhead the glistening stars Put forth their points of light. On deck, behind a bale of goods, Two orphans crouch’d, to sleep; But ’twas so cold, the youngest boy In vain tried not to weep: They were so poor, they had no right Near cabin doors to creep. The elder round the younger wrapt His little ragged cloak, To shield him from the freezing sleet, And surf that o’er them broke; Then drew him closer to his side, And softly to him spoke:—