then, could believe a practised villain, if he professed himself untainted by mendacity? But if, after a plain avowal of his constant resort to it, we find nothing contradictory in his relation, we may reasonably yield a qualified assent to it; since, as Lord Bacon remarks in his Essays, which "come home to men's business and bosoms," a liar had need possess a good memory to prevent his contradicting himself. Where he is consistent throughout a long narrative, the natural deduction is, that he has mainly depended on his memory, rejecting, for the occasion, his temptation to beguile.*

After these preliminary considerations, the relevancy of which is obvious, we proceed to furnish our readers with a few extracts; not doubting, that to such of them as lead domestic, retired lives, it will afford gratification to learn something of the ways of others, who are entirely opposite in their habits,— as opposite as the two electric poles, and, like them, "repelling and repelled." One of the most observable points in these volumes, is the contamination of jails. When men are thrown together in a place where reputation is valueless, they have no inducement to conceal their vices. What is the consequence? They delight in recounting to each other their nefarious exploits: thus conscience is more and more corrupted, and the young and inexperienced are initiated into the skilful manœuvres of adepts. Whoever has read the first edition of Ellwood's Life, (for the subsequent editions do not contain the passage,) may remember the amusing account he has given of the state of the common side of Newgate in the reign of Charles II. Ellwood was imprisoned in that persecuting reign, for adherence to his religious convictions as a Quaker, and had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the ordinary behaviour and conversation of thieves in jail. He saw and lamented the evils incident to a promiscuous assemblage of old and young, of hardened villains and juvenile delinquents; but the remedy was reserved for the present age. That the remedy ought not to have been so long deferred, will be evident to every one who attends to Vaux's account of his first incarceration.

"On entering the gates of the gloomy receptacle to which I was now consigned, and which, on many accounts, has not been unaptly named the Bastile, the sensations I felt may be more easily felt than described. Besides that this was the first prison I had ever entered, every thing around me had an air of unspeakable horror. After being viewed and reviewed by the surly Cerberuses of this earthly Hell, I was conducted up some stairs to a long gallery, or passage,

Since the above was written, we have met with an old schoolfellow of Vaux's, and who also knew him in after life; and from him we have learnt that Vaux's Memoirs have strong claim to credence, from the circumstance that the account of his early life appears to be correctly given, as also that part of his subsequent career which is known to our informant. He added, that his manners were quite fascinating.

part of the United States, to rouse themselves from apathy on this momentous subject. It is due to their country and to posterity, to strive to remove an evil, which, like the Upas, extends its pestiferous influence in every direction. Let them reflect that the object of punishing criminals is to protect society. This object may be promoted by the reformation of the transgressor; but if he is placed in a situation where contagion is inevitable, the punishment, however severe, is not conducive to that result. A severe punishment may, indeed, be influential in deterring others from pursuing similar courses; but if he, on obtaining his release, instead of being disposed to conform to regularity of conduct, is only determined to practise more skilfully the very crime that was the cause of his commitment; or if, from his moral sense being deadened, in consequence of having heard others boast of their villainous exploits, he is ready to engage in new and more desperate attempts, the influence which his punishment may have had on others, is in danger of being overbalanced. What, in such a case, does society gain by the severity of the law? Is it not clear, that all the expense, trouble, and loss of time attendant on the prosecution, are almost fruitlessly bestowed? And here, it is impossible not to lament the accumulated evils arising from the slow operation of law. A man is charged, perhaps innocently, with petty larceny. The tribunal before which he is to be arraigned is not in session; accordingly, unable to procure bail, he is committed to jail, there to lie for three, or perhaps six months, and all the time uncertain whether he is to be acquitted or condemned. In the mean time, his character has deteriorated while his enjoyment has been abridged. Can such a method be consistent with civilization? Would it not be preferable, at the hazard of some injustice, to revert to the summary process of barbarism? Can it be right, that a magistrate shall be empowered to incarcerate a man for months, while he is debarred from pronouncing definitively on his guilt or innocence? There is an incongruity in all this, of which savages might be ashamed. We trust that the time is approaching when a better system will be established. Consolatory is it to consider, that in various countries of Europe, ast well as in America, the subject of prison discipline, and of criminal jurisprudence, occupies the attention of philanthropists and statesmen to a degree never before witnessed, as from their simultaneous exertions much good may be anticipated. One of the causes assigned by Dr. Robertson and other historians, for the resuscitation of Europe from the intellectual degradation of the middle ages, is the discovery at Amalfi, in the twelfth century, of the Pandects of Justinian. Would it not then be irrational to conclude, that the improvements now taking place in law, will not be followed by a correspondent amelioration in so

ciety, since it is obvious that a much higher degree of civilization is attainable by man, than any country has yet exhibited? To those who wish for information on the subject of prison discipline, we recommend a perusal of the correspondence between Mr. R. Vaux of Philadelphia, and Mr. Roscoe of Liverpool; also of the account of the Auburn prison contained in Captain Hall's travels in the United States. In reference to the latter work, it gives us satisfaction to say, that the chapter referred to is unexceptionable. We wish we could say as much for the

rest.

We now proceed to furnish some specimens of the modes of life which thieves and swindlers fall into, that our honest readers may have an opportunity of contrasting them with their own. In so doing, they will doubtless congratulate themselves on the possession of moral principle, satisfied that predatory propensities would have disturbed that calm which belongs only to virtue. The following is Ward's account of his first act of dishonesty.

"Finding it impossible, as I thought, to withstand the impetuosity of my inclinations and desires for freedom and pleasure, I resolved, even against my better judgment, to leave Mr. Pusey and seek my fortune. My hopes were raised to the highest and most pleasing prospects of independence, ease, and affluence; and having in my earliest life cultivated the principle, that in all cases which require secrecy, we should never divulge to a friend what we wish to conceal from an enemy, I concealed my intentions from every body, determining to embrace the first opportunity favourable for prosecuting my first, longcogitated, and, as I thought, exceedingly cunning plan. Accordingly, during the autumn of 1806, on a Sabbath afternoon, I determined to execute my scheme. Near home, there was a store kept by Mr. Kinsey, in copartnership with Mr. Pusey. I was on terms of the greatest harmony and friendship with Mr. Kinsey; and, taking advantage of this confidence, I had ascertained where his cash was kept. I entered the store, and found no difficulty in obtaining every cent. All the family being from home, I concluded to let the house take care of itself, as, having done thus much, I must inevitably make my departure. Having saddled Mr. Pusey's best horse, I mounted, and, with saddle-bags and clothing, started from the house. Being certain I should be pursued as soon as the robbery was discovered, I thought it would be proper to take a course, on which I could most advantageously travel by night as well as by day. I accordingly took my way towards Lancaster; but about four miles from home, I was seen by some person who knew me. Now I was likely to be defeated in all my calculations. At dark, I arrived at Witmer's Bridge, within two miles of Lancaster, having ridden sixteen miles in two hours. I stopt there only a few mi nutes to water and feed my horse, and, remounting, I rode to near daylight next morning, when I arrived at Anderson's Ferry on the Susquehanna. There I was detained some time by the negligence of the boatmen; and I had not proceeded more than half way across the river, when I heard the horn blow as a signal for them to hurry back. Although I trembled at the dread sound and alarm of the approach of my pursuers, I vainly hoped it was impossible for them to be so close after me. However, I determined now that I would give them every trouble, let them take me or not. I did not stop for breakfast, and as I had ridden the whole night, my horse became fatigued and slow, so that about noon I was overtaken by another horseman, whom I found to be my own cousin. He desired me to stop immediately and return, he himself having been suspected of the very act I had committed. As my horse was tired down, I sprang with all my might, to secure myself by taking to the woods. Here again my hopes were frustrated; for my foot caught in the stirrup, and I was forced to yield to

fication; and who shall decide which was the more successful? Hume, in one of his Essays, remarks, that there is no question that a boarding-school miss has often experienced as exquisite delight on finding herself the idol of a ball-room, as an orator when receiving the rapturous applauses of a delighted audience; and Colley Cibber says, that on hearing an old actor express admiration at one of his early performances on the stage, he felt so proud of the commendation, that he doubted whether " Alexandler himself, or Charles XII., when at the head of their first victorious armies, could feel a greater transport in their bosoms." After reading this, some may perhaps think that Pope's epigram on Cibber* was not unmerited; but when they consider that thieves feel a similar exultation, they may rather be inclined to pity poor human nature. In exemplification of what we have advanced, we request attention to the following extract from Vaux. Some of his acquaintances in Newgate had informed him that Mr. Bilger, a jeweller and goldsmith, was a good flat. "About 5 o'clock in the evening, I entered his shop, dressed in the most elegant style, having a valuable gold watch and appendages, a gold eye-glass, &c. I had posted my old friend and aid-de-camp, Bromley, at the door, in order to be in readiness to act as circumstances might require, and particularly to watch the motions of Mr. Bilger and his assistants on my quitting the premises. On my entrance, Mrs. Bilger issued from a back parlour behind the shop, and politely inquiring my business, I told her I wished to see Mr. Bilger; she immediately rang a bell, which brought down her husband from the upper apart. ments. He saluted me with a low bow, and handed me a seat. I was glad to find no other person in the shop, Mrs. Bilger having again retired. I now assumed the air of a Bond-street lounger, and informed Mr. Bilger, that I had been recommended by a gentleman of my acquaintance to deal with him, haying occasion for a very elegant diamond ring, and requested to see his assortment. Mr. Bilger expressed his concern that he happened not to have a single article of that description by him, but if I could without inconvenience call again, he would undertake in one hour to procure me a selection from his working-jeweller, to whom he would immediately despatch a messenger. I affected to feel somewhat disappointed; but, looking at my watch, after a moment's re

As many of our readers may not recollect it, we here insert it. Cibber, it should be borne in mind, was poet-laureate.

"In merry old England, it once was a rule,

That the king had his poet, and also his fool;

But the times are so altered, I'd have you to know it,
That Cibber will serve both for fool and for poet!"

Cibber seems so little to have minded this, and the rest of Pope's satire on him in the Dunciad, that he wrote another epigram nearly as pungent on himself! We give the following stanzas as a specimen of it.

"When Bayes thou play'st, thyself thou art ;

For that by nature fit,

No blockhead better suits the part,

Than such a coxcomb wit.

In Wronghead, too, thy brains we see

Who might do well at plough;

As fit for Parliament was he,

As for the laurel thou."

flection, I said, "Well, Mr. Bilger, I have an appointment at the Cannon coffeehouse, which requires my attendance, and if you will, without fail, have the arti cles ready, I may probably look in a little after six.' This he promised faithfully to do, declaring how much he felt obliged by my condescension; and I sauntered out of the shop, Mr. Bilger attending me in the most obsequious manner to the outer door. After walking a short distance, Bromley tapped me on the shoulder, and inquired what conduct I meant next to pursue; for he had viewed my proceedings through a glass-door in the shop, and saw that I had not executed my grand design. I related to Bromley the result of my conversation with Mr. Bilger, and added that I meant to retire to the nearest public-house, where we could enjoy a pipe and a glass of negus, until the expiration of the hour to which I had limited myself. We accordingly regaled ourselves at a very snug house, nearly opposite Bilger's, until about half after six, when I again repaired to the scene of action, leaving Bromley, as at first, posted at the door. Mr. Bilger received me with increased respect, and producing a small card box, expressed his sorrow that his workman had only been enabled to send three rings for my inspection, but that if they were not to my taste, he should feel honoured and obliged in taking my directions for having one made, and flattered himself he should execute the order to my satisfaction. I proceeded to examine the rings he produced, one of which was marked sixteen guineas, another nine guineas, and the third six guineas. They were all extremely beautiful; but I affected to consider them as too paltry, telling Mr. Bilger that I wanted one to present to a lady, and that I wished to have a ring of greater value than the whole three put together, as a few guineas would not be an object in the price. Mr. Bilger's son, who was also his partner, now joined us, and was desired by his father to sketch a draught in pencil of some fancy rings, agreeable to the directions I should give him. The three rings I had viewed, were now removed to the end of the counter next the window, and I informed the young man that I wished to have something of a cluster, a large brilliant in the centre, surrounded with smaller ones; but repeated my desire that no expense might be spared to render the article strictly elegant, and worthy a lady's acceptance. The son having sketched a design of several rings on a card, I examined them with attention, and appeared in doubt which to prefer, but desired to see some loose diamonds, in order to form a better idea of the size, &c. of each ring described in the drawing. Mr. Bilger, however, declared he had not any by him. It is probable he spoke truth, or he might have lost such numbers by showing them, as to deter him from exhibiting them in future. Without having made up my mind on the subject, I now requested to see some of his most fashionable brooches, or shirt-pins. Mr. Bilger produced a show-glass, containing a great variety of articles in pearl, but he had nothing of the kind in diamonds. I took up two or three of the brooches, and immediately sunk a very handsome one, marked three guineas, in my coat sleeve. I next purloined a beautiful clasp for a lady's waist, consisting of stones set in gold, which had the appearance and brilliancy of real diamonds, but marked only four guineas. I should probably have gone still deeper, but at this moment a lady coming in, desired to look at some ear-rings, and the younger Mr. Bilger immediately quitted his father to attend upon her at the other end of the shop. It struck me that now was my time for a decisive stroke. The card containing the diamond rings, procured from the maker, lying very near the show-glass I was viewing, and many small articles irregularly placed round about them, the candles not throwing much light on that particular spot, and Mr. Bilger's attention being divided between myself and the lady, to whom he frequently addressed himself, I suddenly took the three rings from the card, and committed them to my sleeve, to join the brooch and lady's clasp; but had them so situated, that I could, in a moment, have released and replaced them on the counter, had an inquiry been made for them. I then looked at my watch, and observing that I was going to the theatre, told Mr. Bilger that I would not trouble him any further, as the articles before me were too tawdry and common to please me, but that I would put the card of draughts in my pocket-book, and if I did not meet with a ring of the kind I wanted, before Monday or Tuesday, I would certainly call again, and give him final directions. I was then drawing on my