A year ago now, we started our farm. It is fifty miles out of the city; it contains 530 acres. I commenced by taking up a little detachment of 14 men; and I rapidly increased that until I had 180 men, housed in temporary quarters on this farm. The average term of the man on the farm was about five or six months, though I had several men there who had to do from one to two years. So far we have taken out to this farm 500 men, and out of that 500, four have escaped successfully, and three or four have attempted to escape--unsuccessfully. The other day a minister in our city was calling, and I gave him these statistics, and he looked very sad; he said it was a pity. I said it was; “but,” I said, “can you take 500 of your church membership and have 495 of them make good?” And he changed the subject. I had a grand jury visit me the other day; it is a custom, over in our country, for the grand juries to come over a few times a year and tell us how to run the place (they sometimes stay an hour); and the foreman, before he went away, said to me, “Warden, I suppose you select the men whom you take out to the farm.” I said, “No, sir. I don’t.” He said, “How do you manage?” I said, “I select a very few whom I _don’t_ take;” for I can take 90 per cent. About three weeks ago I was going into the farm one day; it was a cold, snowy, blowing, blustering day; the thermometer was about zero. When I came near to our building it was quarter to twelve o’clock; and I saw men coming from this direction, and that direction, and from every direction pass alone; no officers with them at all; and it impressed me, perhaps, much more than it would another one not engaged in this work; for I asked myself the question--“How is it? These are the very men that I have had in Toronto behind bolts and bars, watched over by guns and guards; and here they are out here, as free as this air that blows, and they are all coming in to sit down with each other at dinner.” I have asked our men on the farm--many of them, different types, at different places, at different times, and I have asked them all the same question:--“What do you find the greatest difference as between the prison in the city and the prison out here on the farm?” And without a single exception, in one form or another those men have invariably given me the same reply. We give good board at the prison, but it was not that; it was not this liberty, comparative liberty. They have said to me: “Warden, to get away from that cell! To get away from that cell!”