On the day preceding the ceremony I was asked to assist in decorating the chapel with flowers kindly sent by Lady Rothschild. It was a delicate expression of sympathy for the prisoners, which she repeated on all high festival days. She was deeply affected when I told her how profoundly the women appreciated her recognition of a common humanity. On the appointed day all work was suspended to enable the prisoners to be present. In the galleries were seated the families of the governor, chaplain, and doctor; at the right of the altar the generous donor of the chapel, Adeline, Duchess of Bedford, was seated with her friends. The organist played a prelude, and then the bishop, accompanied by the chaplain and the clergymen of the diocese, entered the chapel. After a hymn had been sung, a short service followed, and then the bishop stepped forward and, facing the altar, read the “dedication service.” It was most impressive. Then followed a prayer and a hymn, and the service was over. The prisoners filed back to their respective cells and the visitors made the tour of the prison. I was a patient in the infirmary at the time, but had received permission to attend the chapel. Before the Bishop of Reading left the prison he visited the sick, and as he passed my cell he stopped and spoke to me words of hope and encouragement, adding his blessing. INFLUENCE OF RELIGION UPON PRISONERS Another occasion on which the Bishop of Reading visited the prison was the holding of a confirmation service. Many women of earnest minds in prison sought in this manner to prove the sincerity of their repentance and their resolution to live godly lives; and, with one exception, all those confirmed that day have remained true to their profession. Penal servitude is a fiery test of one’s religious convictions. One’s faith is either strengthened and deepened or else it goes under altogether. I have witnessed many a sad spiritual shipwreck within those walls. On a dark, gloomy day in October the rain pattered against the window of my cell and the wind howled dismally around that huge “house of sorrow.” Now and then the sound of weeping broke upon the stillness, and I prayed in my heart for the poor souls in travail whose pains had broken through the enforced rule of silence. There is no sound in all the world so utterly unnerving as the hopeless sob of the woman in physical isolation who may not be spiritually comforted. Separated from loved ones, beyond the reach of tender hands and voices, she has no one, as in former years, to share her sufferings or minister to her pain. Alone, one of a mass, with no one to care but the good God above; for “to suffer” thus is the punishment that man has decreed.