r inventions do no more harm than make them ridiculous,
they are only laughed at and let alone, but when one of them develops a
talent for invention which molests or injures others, especially when it
takes the form of confidential communication to the governor of what he
sees, and still more of what he does not see, such retribution as both
prisoners and officers can inflict is not long in falling. His row
becomes filled with very sharp-edged stones indeed, and roots which tear
his hands painfully. Nearly always these boastings are fathered by an
absurd vanity--a desire ever to appear what they are not, and while they
think they are deceiving others they deceive no one but themselves.

One case I remember, though, was an exception. One young fellow made
such use of his invention, and the story is so interesting and
instructive as showing with what lofty respect English gentlemen are
educated for the rights of property, that I shall relate it.

Four or five years after I went to Chatham a young fellow named
Frederick Barton arrived with a ten years' sentence for forgery. His
appearance and manners were very much in his favor, and his conduct so
confirmed the good first impression that he speedily became a favorite
with everybody from the governor down.

Some three years had slipped by when one day he asked me if I would
prepare a petition which he might send to the Home Secretary in the hope
of obtaining a commutation of sentence. I liked the youngster very well
and readily consented, but told him that I doubted very much if he
would get anything. The petition was sent, and in a few days the usual
answer was returned, "No grounds." He told me of his ill luck, and I
said to him: "Look here, so long as you send up whining petitions asking
for mercy both you and they will be treated with contempt. If you wish
to get that English gentleman in the Home Office to do anything for you,
make him believe you are a millionaire; you will see whether he will do
anything then for you or not." He laughed merrily at that. "A
millionaire! Why, I haven't a sixpence. My father is only a private
coachman at Tunbridge Wells." "That is nothing at all," I said; "if you
will be guided by me, and let me manage things for you, I will have a
petition sent in for you from the outside, and I feel sure we can get
you out." An idea had just flashed into my mind, and I was eager to try
it.

At first he was a little timid about the venture, fearing