The case of Pickard Smith—Sent repeatedly to the Penitentiary—Escapes again and again—Best methods of preventing escapes as seen in modern Prisons—Remarkable case of Punch Howard—Escape ingeniously effected—Cleverly recaptured—Jack Robinson at Dartmoor—George Hackett at Pentonville. THE most annoying of the many anxieties that weighed upon Governor Nihil at this time was the deportment of a certain Pickard Smith, who seemed more than a match for all the authority of the place. His case is interesting as an example of the length to which a prisoner can go, even in times when better influences were, it was hoped, at work with all. On the day he arrived at the Penitentiary under the name of Smith, it was discovered that he had been there before as Pickard, when he was known for notorious misconduct, though towards the end of his sentence he had assumed an appearance of reformation. On his recommittal he was at first quiet and amenable to discipline, but he seemed to have conceived suddenly a desire to be sent abroad to the colonies. From henceforth his conduct was detestable. At length he destroyed everything in his cell: furniture, clothing, glass, books, including “Bishop Green’s Discourses,” and then he endeavoured to brain the officer who came to expostulate. “If I am to go to the dark, I may as well go for something,” he said; and after he was removed it was found that he had written the following lines on the back of his cell door: “London is the place where I was bred and born, Newgate has been too often my situation, The Penitentiary has been too often my dwelling-place, And New South Wales is my expectation.” Not a very high poetical flight, to which the governor-chaplain remained insensible, and had the poet forthwith flogged. The magistrate came as before from the nearest police office, for the express purpose of passing sentence. Seventy-five lashes out of three hundred ordered were inflicted, greatly to the benefit, it is recorded, of other unruly prisoners, all of whom were brought out to witness the punishment. “They appeared much subdued in spirit,” says Mr. Nihil, and for some days afterwards the prison exhibited quite an altered character. But upon the culprit himself the sentence had no effect whatever. He spent his time from that day forth in whistling, idleness, and impertinence, sometimes in his own cell, oftener in the dark. His insolence grew more and more insupportable; he told the governor to hold his jaw, and his warder to go about his business. One fine morning it was found that he had gone. His cell was empty, and he had disappeared. “The mode of escape,” said the governor in his journal, “was most ingenious, daring, and masterly, though the prisoner is only eighteen years of age. There was a combination of sagacity, courage, and ready resource, indicating extraordinary powers, both mental and bodily.”