up the fight on purpose, and as both were about to be apprehended,
he says to the man he was fighting with, 'Jack, give me half-a-crown
and I'll swear all the blame on myself;' poor Jack was glad to accept
the offer, so when they were taken before the magistrate the old beauty
said--'Please sir, it was me that assaulted that man, and as I am
entirely in the fault I hope you will give me all the punishment.' So
Jack got out rejoicing, and the beauty got in, chuckling over his
half-a-crown, and speculating on the feast he would get with it when
his sixty days expired!"

"How long does he generally remain out of prison?" I then enquired.

"Why," said my friend, "two days is a long time for him; if he is
beyond that time he will come to the prison and beg a meal!"

"Why does he not go to the poorhouse?" I asked.

"Because he is more accustomed to the jail, and likes it better. He is
generally employed in cleaning windows and other parts of the prison,
and he likes a 'lark' with the prisoners, most of whom he knows!"

Finding my companion so communicative I continued my enquiries, and
asked him, "What young fellows are these in the next cell?" "They have
both been in the army," he replied. "One of them committed a small
forgery, I think he forged the captain's order for some boots. He
expected to get 'legged,'[3] and get out of the army, but he has been
sucked in. They only gave him a few months' imprisonment, and he will
have to go back to his regiment again when his time's up. His brother's
now at Chatham, doing a four years 'legging,' but he hasn't to go back
again to the army. This fellow swears he'll commit another crime as
soon as he gets out!"

[3] Penal servitude.

Whether this threat of committing another crime was carried out or not
I cannot tell, but in the earlier years of my imprisonment I came in
contact with several prisoners who had committed offences for the
purpose of getting out of the army. Of late years I have not met with
any having been perpetrated with that motive.

Noticing a delicate, melancholy-looking young man opposite to us, I
enquired who he was. "O! I pity that man very much," said my friend.
"He has got a sentence of twenty-one years' penal servitude, and is as
innocent of the crime as the child unborn."

"How do you know he is innocent?" I asked, in amazement.

"The guilty man has turned up, now that they cannot punish him, and
confessed."

Shortly after this conversation