The clergymen whose crimes brought them to Millbank were rather commonplace characters; weak men, mostly, who could not resist their evil propensities. Of course they were not always what they pretended to be. One of the most noteworthy was the Honourable and Reverend Mr.——, who was really an ordained minister of the Church of England, and had held a good living in Ireland, worth £1,400 a year. But he was passionately addicted to the turf, and attended every meeting. His luck varied considerably—sometimes up and sometimes down. He came at length to lose every shilling he had in the world at Manchester races. The inveterate spirit of gambling was so strong within him that he was determined to try his luck again. He had been staying at a friend’s house—a careless man, of good means, who left his cheque-book too accessible to others. The Honourable and Reverend Mr.—— went straight from the course to his friend’s study, filled in a cheque, forged the signature, cashed the same _en route_ to the races, and recommenced operations forthwith. Meanwhile his friend went also, quite by accident, to the bank for cash. They told him a large cheque had only just been paid to his order. “I drew no cheque!” he exclaimed. “Why, here it is?” “But that is not my signature.” Whereupon the honourable and reverend gentleman was incontinently arrested in the middle of the grand stand. His sentence was transportation for life, and from Millbank he passed on in due course to the antipodes. He was a poor creature at the best times, and under prison discipline became almost imbecile and useless. After a long interval he gained a ticket-of-leave, and was last heard of performing divine worship at an out-station at the rate of a shilling a service. Of a very different kidney was the Rev. A. B., a man of parts, clever and dexterous, who succeeded in everything he tried. He spoke seven languages, all well; and when in prison learned with ease to tailor with the best. Somewhat similar to him in character was the Rev. Dr. B., a doctor of divinity, according to his own statement, whose career of villainy was of long duration. This man had served several long sentences, which in no wise prevented his return to crime. He also was a man of superior education, who could read Hebrew, so the warders said, as easily as the chaplain gave the morning prayers. Dr. B. was discovered one day writing in Hebrew characters in his copy-book at school time, just when a party of distinguished visitors were inspecting the prison. One of them, surprised, said, “What! do you know Hebrew?” “Yes,” was the impudent reply, “I expect a great deal better than you do.”