About 10 o'clock the man next to me with an
oath threw down his spade and vowed he would do no more work. Putting on
his vest and packet, he walked up to the warder, and quite as a matter
of course turned his back to him and put both hands behind him. The
warder produced a pair of handcuffs, and without any comment handcuffed
his hands in that position, and then told him to stand with his back to
the work. No one took the slightest notice and the toil did not slacken
for an instant, but one man was out of the game, and we had to make his
side good.

Noon came at last. We dropped our spades, hastily slipped on our jackets
and at once set off at a quick march for the prison. I naturally looked
at the various gangs piloting their way through the mud and all steering
in a straight line for the Appian way whereon we were, for, as all roads
lead to Rome, so all the sticky ways "on the works" led to the prison.
Our laconic friend was trudging on behind the party, and to my surprise
I noticed that several of the other parties had un enfant perdu, hands
behind his back, marching in the rear, and as soon as we reached the
prison each poor sheep in the rear fell out quite as a matter of course.
When all the men were in, a warder came up and gave the order, "Right
turn! Forward!" and off the poor fellows marched to the punishment cells
for three days' bread and water each, and no bed, unless one designates
an oak plank as such. It was all very sad; 'twas pitiful to see the
matter-of-fact way in which every one concerned took it all.

So my first day in the mud and clay came to an end, and I found myself
once more in my little box with a night before me for rest and thought.
Although I had suffered, yet there were grounds for gratitude and hope,
and I felt that I might regard the future steadily and without despair.

[Illustration: VISITOR TRYING ON THE HANGMAN'S IR ON PINIONING BELT AT
NEWGATE.]

CHAPTER XXXVII.

HENCEFORTH A LIGHT WAS TO STREAM THROUGH THE FLUTED GLASS OF MY WINDOW.

The first day was over, but it seemed to me that something more must
come. That what I had gone through could mean the life of a day must
surely be impossible. Was there nothing before me but isolation so
complete that no whisper from the outside world could reach me, that
world which compared with the death into which I was being absorbed
seemed the only world of the living?

Had I actually nothing to look for but the most repulsive w