had given him. Altogether, he was quite $2,000 ahead, and I
wanted to make it $5,000. He certainly deserved it for his constancy and
affection.

One lovely June day we sailed into Plymouth, there to land mail and such
passengers as wanted to take the express to London. I instructed my wife
to go to Southampton while I went ashore with my guardians.

From the London Times, June 10, 1873:

"Among the passengers who landed at Plymouth yesterday morning from
the royal mail steamer Moselle was Bidwell, otherwise F. A. Warren,
in charge of Detective Sergeant Michael Hayden and William Green,
accompanied by Capt. John Curtin and Walter Perry of Mr.
Pinkerton's staff. They were joined by Inspector Wallace and
Detective Sergeant William Moss of the city police, who had come
down from London the previous night to meet the steamer.

[Illustration: CHATHAM--CONVICTS AT LABOR.]

"It being known that Bidwell was expected from Havana in the
Moselle, an enormous crowd assembled in Milbay pier to await the
return of the steam tender with the mail, in order to get a sight
of the prisoner, and so great was the crowd that it was with some
difficulty that Bidwell and his escort managed to reach cabs, and
were driven to the Duke of Cornwall Hotel adjoining the railway
station. They left by the 12.45 train for London. A crowd of
20,000 persons were present to see them off, and cheered Bidwell
heartily.

"Bidwell will be taken before the Lord Mayor in the justice room at
the Mansion House this morning."

Accompanied by my escort of six, I arrived in London one bright Spring
morning, just as the mighty masses of that great Babylon were thronging
in their thousands toward Epsom Downs, where on that day the Derby, that
pivotal event in the English year, was to be run. All London was astir,
and had put on holiday attire, while I, now a poor weed drifting to rot
on Lethe's wharf, was on my way to Newgate.

Newgate! Then it had come to this! The Primrose Way wherein I had walked
and lived delicately at the expense of honor, ended here!

"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," was written by one
Paul. The wisdom of many was here and condensed in the wit of one, and
one with the shrewdest insight into things and a practical knowledge of
human history.

I was a prisoner in Newgate. Newgate! The very name casts a chill; so,
too, does a