The next great step was the Prison Act of 1865, which grew out of the report from a committee of the House of Lords, and which strongly condemned the lack of uniformity in the prison buildings, and in the punishments inflicted. Many of the practices which still prevailed even at that late date (1865) were really a disgrace to our civilisation. In some of the prisons the inmates lay two in a bed in dormitories without light, ventilation or control. Warders were afraid to enter them after dark. There was no uniformity in labour, or in the hours in which it was performed. In one prison the inmates lay in bed for fifteen hours daily. One of these gaols, which existed until the passing of the Act of 1865, and which was situated in the heart of a densely populated seaport town, has been described by its last governor. It was an ancient edifice, consisting of four parallel two-storied blocks. The lower story opened on a corridor, the windows of which were unglazed and communicated with the outer air. Above each cell door was a barred opening without glass, which served as a ventilator. In wet weather the rain poured into the passage; in a snow storm the snow flakes drifted through the cell-ventilators upon the bed which was just beneath, and which was often covered in the morning with snow an inch or two deep. There was no heating apparatus, and the place was desperately cold in winter. On the first floor there were a number of larger cells in which as many as seven prisoners were associated together, day and night, so crowded that the beds were stowed upon the floor, while hammocks were also stretched across them above. Sunday was the worst day of the week in this horrible old prison. After morning service, the prisoners took their dinners with them to their cells and were then and there locked up till the following morning. No one could get out, even if he were dying; there was no communication with officers or others outside. Here, in an atmosphere laden with fetid exhalations, amid filth of all kinds, the wretched prisoners were imprisoned for eighteen consecutive hours. These modern "black holes" were far worse than that of Calcutta in that their unfortunate inmates had daylight in which to observe with loathing and disgust the indecencies which surrounded them. Nor was it only in the accommodation provided that these poor creatures suffered. They were continually ill-used by their warders, who harassed and harried them at every turn. Each officer had a prisoner to wait upon him as a personal attendant, called his "lackey," who was always at his heels serving him hand and foot, and performing every menial office except that of carrying his keys. The outgoing governor who escorted his successor (my informant) around the gaol was imbued with the same brutal, reckless spirit, which he displayed by rushing into a cell, seizing a youthful prisoner by the shoulders, and shaking him violently, after which he