en
gates," where tea, sugar, and other little comforts could be purchased
by the prisoners out of their prison earnings. This step was a
successful one, for with the decrease of temptation from without, came
an increase of comfort from within, provided they earned money and
obeyed rules. Plenty of work could be done, seeing that they all
required more or less clothing, while Botany Bay could take any number
of garments to be utilized for the members of the penal settlement
there.

Two months after Lord Lansdowne's motion was made in Parliament, Mrs.
Fry, together with Joseph John Gurney, his wife, and her own daughter,
Rachel, went into Scotland on a religious and philanthropic tour. The
chief object of this journey seems to have been the visitation of
Friends' Meetings in that part of the kingdom; but the prison enterprise
was by no means forgotten. In her journal she records visits to meetings
of Friends held at Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Liverpool and Knowsley.
At the latter place they were guests of the Earl of Derby, and much
enjoyed the palatial hospitality which greeted them. They made a point
of visiting most of the jails and bridewells in the towns through which
they passed, finding in some of them horrors far surpassing anything
that Newgate could have shown them even in its unreformed days. At
Haddington four cells, allotted to prisoners of the tramp and criminal
class, were "very dark, excessively dirty, had clay floors, no
fire-places, straw in one corner for a bed, and in each of them a tub,
the receptacle for all filth." Iron bars were used upon the prisoners so
as to become instruments of torture. In one cell was a poor young man
who was a lunatic--whence nobody knew. He had been subject to the misery
and torture of Haddington jail for eighteen months, without once leaving
his cell for an airing. No clothes were allowed, no medical man attended
those who were incarcerated, and a chaplain never entered there, while
the prison itself was destitute of any airing-yard. The poor debtors,
whether they were few or many, were all confined in one small cell not
nine feet square, where one little bed served for all.

At Kinghorn, Fifeshire, a young laird had languished in a state of
madness for six years in the prison there, and had at last committed
suicide. Poor deranged human nature flew to death as a remedy against
torture. At Forfar, prisoners were chained to the bedstead; at Berwick,
to the walls of the