I was born at Shoreditch, near London, on the 28th of May, 1819, and was nearing the age of sixteen when one day I was accused of committing a paltry theft. Of this I was innocent, and naturally denied it, but the constable who accosted me insisted, no matter what I said, that I had to go with him. My feelings were anything but high-flown as I passed along the street with him--what boy's feelings would be?--on the other hand they were down almost below zero. It was no use; I soon realised my position, it was this:--If I am found guilty of this offence--and I have little hope of proving my innocence--Heaven only knows where I may find myself. My trial came on before a Bench of Magistrates in Worship Street, London, on July the 3rd, 1834, and I was committed to take my trial. When a man had the bad luck to get committed, he was sent to Clerkenwell, or to the Old Bailey, and if he listened to the conversations of his associates at either of these places, during intervals that he might be remanded, it was quite possible that a previously innocent man would be converted into an adept at picking pockets and house-screwing. I was a new-chum in places of this kind, and also at such pursuits. New-chums generally fell into, and were made the subject of, numbers of practical jokes, too, at the hands of these fellows, and I was saved none the less in this respect. "Go upstairs and get the bellows," one of them said to me: and when I got to the top of the stairs, some others sent me to the far end of the ward for it. On arrival there, another crowd met me with knotted handkerchiefs, and 'pasted' me all the way back. "Pricking a crow's nest," was another of their games. This consisted in making a round ring on the wall with a piece of charcoal, and placing a black dot in the centre of it. One was then blindfolded, and his object was to place his finger on this black dot; but instead of doing this, another fellow stood with open mouth to receive the finger, and he didn't forget to bite it either. If anyone took money into this place they might as well say 'au revoir' to it, for they were not asleep. After a few days of this life my trial came on--I was sentenced to Australia for 7 years' penal servitude. Then I was sent to Newgate, and when the door opened there, I was met by a large number of "Jack Shepherds," all in irons, and the place was as dismal-looking as the grave. First I entered the receiving-room, and remained there a day; afterwards I was put in with a fine assemblage of characters, and one might as well begin to count the stars in the Heavens as attempt to define who was the worst individual there. Night came on and I began to look around for a bed; this I found consisted of a rug and a mat, of which I availed myself. If a man was sentenced to seven years he was only kept there for a few days, and was then taken in irons, by means of a van, to the "hulk" at Portsmouth. This was the fate I shared. On arrival there I was stripped