eceived in Newgate, he inquired, with an air
of childlike sincerity, whether there was not some work to do in the
Governor's garden. Colonel Milman smiled expressively as he answered
that he was "afraid not."

The gallant Governor then went into an office, and as I wanted to
speak to him before we were marched off, I walked in after him. "Hi!"
exclaimed the officious underling, "you mustn't go in there." But I went
in, nevertheless, followed by the fussy officer, who was quietly told
by the Governor that he "needn't trouble." I explained to Colonel Milman
that my position was peculiar. "Yes," he said, "I know; I saw you at the
Old Bailey yesterday," and his look expressed the rest. I then stated
that, as there was no Court of Criminal Appeal, I wished to make
representations to the Home Office as to the character our trial and the
almost unprecedented nature of our sentence; in particular, I wished the
Home Secretary to say whether he would sanction our being classed with
common thieves for a press offence. I was told that I could have an
official form for this purpose; and, thanking the Governor, I withdrew
to join my companions.

Let me here thank Colonel Milman for his unvarying kindness. During the
whole of my imprisonment he never once addressed me in any other way
than he would have addressed me outside; and although he had to carry
out a harsh sentence, it was obvious that he shrank from the duty. But
this eulogium is too personal. I hasten, therefore, to say that I never
heard Colonel Milman speak harshly to a prisoner, or saw a forbidding
look on his fine face. One of nature's gentlemen, he could hardly be
uncivil to the lowest of the low.

Colonel Milman always dressed well, and the little color he always
affected was in harmony with his exuberant figure. It was refreshing to
see him occasionally in one's weariness of the dingy prison. He usually
stood at the wing-gate as the men filed in from exercise, and answered
their salutes, with a word for this one and a smile for that. One day
I heard a handsome eulogy on him by a prisoner. He was standing in the
open air outside the gate. It was a pleasant summer morning, and he was
radiantly happy. A man behind me was evidently struck by the Governor's
appearance, for I heard him mutter to his neighbor, "Good old boy, ain't
he?" "Yes," said the other, "you're right." "Fat, ain't he?" rejoined
number one. "Yes," said number two, "like a top. It do yer good to see
_