Connected with these several kinds of punishment is the putting the convict down from one of the upper stories if he is up there. The whole administration of the prison is clothed with terror, and there is no end to its vengeance. The first _form_ of suffering is only the first _lash_, and each _additional_ form comes in regular succession. This is the second lash. The third is this--the number of times that the prisoner has been in punishment, is always brought up when an application is made for a pardon. The Reporter of characters takes a full share of gratification in adverting to these, when a certificate of the conduct is given. I cannot mention this man's conduct without indignation. I hope he will find room for repentance, and obtain pardon from his God for his many vexatious acts in relation to the prisoners. I know of no man in whose breast so little humanity prevails. Every prisoner will carry to judgment a charge against him. One drop of human sympathy never flowed in his veins. A mountain of ice has frozen around his heart. His acts of inhumanity would fill volumes, and it would require years to record them. I pity him from my soul, and though I have felt more than once, the weight of his _mercy_, I freely pardon him. If he should ever look on this page, I hope he will remember how unjustly he abused me, because he had the _power_, and I could not _help_ myself. I wish also that he would think of Plumley, and the three times convicted sufferer of WOODSTOCK GREEN. Besides those already mentioned, it may not be out of place to touch on a few of what may be called _extra judicial_ inflictions, or those which are felt by the prisoners without the usual process of a "report in writing." These are--not sending their letters, nor admitting those sent to them--adding a yard to the task of a man, who did not feel like doing more than was _required_ of him, and making him use the finest and most difficult materials--imposing the _worst_ work, and allowing only the _poorest_ tools. These, and many other vexatious practices, are as common as the return of day and night; so that the prison at Windsor is one of those gloomy and dreadful places, which image to the mind that house of woe and pain, where are weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth; where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched; and into which the wicked will be turned, and all the nations that forget God. That the reader may have a full view of this subject, I shall give in the next chapter a multitude of cases, which will fully illustrate this very important and affecting part of my sketches. SAMUEL E. GODFREY.