that broke out was so loud that many officers going off duty heard the disturbance at the other end of Vauxhall Bridge, and returned to the prison. All through the months of April and May the violence of the malcontents continued unabated. They had found out their strength, no doubt, and laughed at all attempts to coerce them. Neither dark cells nor irons exercised the least effect, and the only remaining punishment—the lash, the committee were not as yet empowered to enforce. It must be confessed that one reads with regret that a parcel of unruly scoundrels should thus be allowed to make a mockery of the punishment to which they were sentenced by the law, and that they should be suffered unchecked to set all order and discipline at defiance. And all this deliberate insolence and open insubordination could have but one end, and culminated at length in a murderous affray, in which a couple of prisoners fell upon the machine-keeper and nearly killed him. The plot had been well laid, and brewing for some time. About seven o’clock one morning, while working quietly at the crank, prisoner Salmon rushed at Mr. Mullard, the machine-keeper, and knocked him off the platform by a tremendous blow, which caught him just behind the ear, and cut his head open. Crouch, another prisoner, struck Mr. Mullard at the same moment. When on the ground he was kicked by Salmon in the mouth. No one but the wardsman, another prisoner, came to poor Mullard’s assistance; but this man acted with great spirit, and it was mainly owing to his prompt interference that the machine-keeper escaped with his life. At the moment the attack was made all the other officers were at a distance. One warder said he saw Mr. Mullard fall, but thought it was accidental, and that the prisoner Salmon had stooped over to pick him up. However, when the other prisoners crowded round, shouting, “Give it him! Give it him! Lay on,” this warder, perceiving their evil intentions, took to his heels—to get assistance, for he afterwards indignantly disclaimed all idea of quitting the yard through personal apprehension. At the tower he found the taskmaster coming out cutlass in hand; Rogan, the warder, got one also, and both hurried back to the yard. Smith, the wardsman, was fighting with Crouch, and Mr. Mullard, who had got again to his feet, with Salmon; the other prisoners looking on, being, as they afterwards asserted, afraid to stir, “particularly after seeing the warder, Rogan, run away.” Crouch now came at the taskmaster “with fury in his looks;” upon which the latter drew his cutlass and warned him to stand off, and then both Crouch and Salmon were secured. There was no doubt the greater part of the prisoners were concerned in this mutiny, for although Mullard called aloud for assistance, not a soul but Smith, the wardsman, stirred a finger to help him. These miscreants were subsequently tried at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to increased imprisonment.