I have already explained that those persons who were convicted under the Peel’s Servitude Act of 1853, which accidentally omitted to provide for the conditional pardon, form a class which has occasioned some perplexity, but is gradually dying out. The men of this class are divided into four “stages:” those in the second stage have sixpence a week towards their gratuity, in the third ninepence, in the fourth one shilling. Men sentenced under the amended Act of 1857 are divided into three “stages:” in the second stage they receive fourpence a week, and in the third eightpence. The larger sums given to the men of the first class, together with some other indulgences in prison, are allowed as a compensation for their losing the chance of getting a ticket-of-leave, either in the colonies or at home. The accumulated gratuity sometimes rises to a considerable amount. A friend who has studied the subject minutely has found it to range as high as 27_l._ or 28_l._; usually it ranges from 8_l._ to 20_l._; and he computes the average to be about 12_l._ As you already know, this is not handed to the man in one sum. Supposing his gratuity to be of the average amount, on leaving the prison he will receive 2_l._, with the deduction of a few pence for postage which will be incurred on his account after his departure. Ten days later he will receive 2_l._ more, at the end of two months 4_l._, and at the end of three months the balance of 4_l._; so that he will be five months and a half before he can draw the whole sum. Thus, if he is discharged on the 1st of January, he will not have cleared his prison account until the end of June. He cannot draw any of the instalments without obtaining the endorsement of a clergyman, magistrate, or some known persons, to a form which shows that he is living respectably and supporting himself by honest work. Some time since, I am told by the same friend, the discharged prisoners were often unable to obtain any of their gratuity, and in most instances could not arrive at the closing balance. It too frequently happened that the man would return to his friends, recover his original character—that is, become a vagabond and a thief—and so lose the power to procure the valuable endorsement of a magistrate or clergyman. Another danger attended all convicts, and still, I fear, attends the most hardened or the most desolate. At every post where the man was likely to emerge from his seclusion was stationed an agent appointed by the very worst of all “the dangerous classes”—some Fagin or Fagin’s man, the caterer for criminal customers. This functionary is of the same genus with those who tout at the landing-pier of watering-places, with vocal cards issuing from their mouths in praise of certain inns. The gentleman sallying forth from one of her Majesty’s mansions, found himself suddenly courted as a welcome customer, a “distinguished person,” with every convenience offered to him