withstands them, and left him weak and bleeding.
Reform is not tested till every voice which a
man hears has cried yield; till he has seen his
associates yielding, and those whom he has pinned
his faith on yielding; till he has felt his own
heart yielding, and his reason yielding, and has
yet held on, and clung to his purpose with
nerveless but determined hands.

This, and this only, is reform; and is it likely
under these circumstances that Bill Davis will
reform?

The Minister of the Interior is of opinion that
there is abroad at this present time a great deal
of false philanthropy and of morbid mercy; we
are too merciful to Michael Collins and not
merciful enough to poor Mr. Mouser. When
Miehael Collins leaves the jail, in which he has
probably, to begin with, not been half tormented
enough to make him dread finding himself there
again, the turnkey who lets him out knows as
certainly that he is going forth to batter in Mr.
Mouser's skull and to steal Mr. Mouser's watch—
previously gouging out a few eyes among his
acquaintance— this is as well known to the
jailer as that when Mr. Flashpan arrives at
King's Cross-station with his dogs en route for
Scotland, he is going to the Highlands to fire
at the red-deer—and miss them.

This being so, the Minister of the Interior
is inclined to think that when we have once
got hold of Michael Collins we should most
certainly not let him go again. What do we do
with a thoroughly vicious horse? We neither
kill him nor let him go, we utilise him. We
employ his muscular forces; we fasten him
securely to an omnibus, or some other equally
uncompromising vehicle, and we make him drag
it. We should apply this same rule to Michael,
to keep him out of mischief; but above all
things we should not let him enjoy that liberty
of which he makes so foul a use. There are
some charities a certain number of donations to
which constitute a life-governor, so there should
be some jails a certain number of committals to
which should give a title to a life-residence. By
the time that our friend Michael has got well
known to the police, depend upon it the period
has arrived when it is highly desirable that he
should not be well known to anybody else, unless
it is to the jailer who takes care of him, the
sentry who watches him, and one other person,
about whom the Minister of the Interior has
now a word or two to say. That other person
is the prison chaplain.

The Minister of the Interior would then most
earnestly entreat the prison chaplain not to
believe a single word that Michael says to him;
to be guided entirely by Michael's behaviour,
and to put no trust in his amendment till years,
and not a few of them, have tested it.

Not a few of them. The Minister of the
Interior is acquainted with a gentleman (who
is at this moment not a hundred miles
away from the table at which these words
are written) who was at one time of his
life a very late riser in the morning. Well,
this gentleman becoming convinced that it was

injurious to his health and to his prospects
generally to indulge in these slothful habits, came
at last to a fixed determination that he would
break through them. Undeterred by numerous
failures, he continued then to struggle
against temptation, and struggled with such
energy and to such purpose that at last he really
did become what he had proposed, and was
quite a model as to his habits in the morning.
For four years did this go on, and the rigour
of four winters could not bind the blankets round
this heroic gentleman after seven o'clock in the
morning. But about this time our friend had an
illness which rendered it necessary that, for
a few days, he should keep his bed till the morning
was far advanced. In that short time, all
the good effect of the previous four years was
undone; nature revived again, the habit of lying
in bed became re-established, and the eleven
o'clock breakfast reigned once more triumphant.
After some time had elapsed, the
late rising became again intolerable, and with
it a superhuman effort to determine to
conquer it. This resolution has been put in force
and sustained again—Heavens, with what effort!—
for years, yet he is very far from feeling
safe. Let the prison chaplain, bearing in his
memory some such case as this— of which he
may have, perhaps, personal knowledge in
himself—let him be very very mistrustful of Michael's
profession of reformation. It is pleasant, doubtless,
to be told by Michael that your teaching
and your eloquence have taken such effect that
he no longer feels the same man, and that he
longs to go forth and reclaim that poor sinner
Bill Davis, and to bring Biddy Sullivan to evening
church. It is pleasant and flattering to the
chaplain to hear that his influence has been so
great as this; but ought he to put any
confidence in such professions? Let him also refer to
the police reports and the assize sheet, and see
how many of the offences recorded in those
calendars of crime are perpetrated by the holders
of tickets-of-leave, and the like diplomas of
reform.

There are a great many more " subjects"
whose liberty, in the opinion of the Minister
of the Interior, is dangerous to our community.

How about the man who, when you are feeling
anything but well, and are rather anxious about
your state of health, meets you in the street,
and, looking critically at your countenance,
says, " Why, how is this, my dear fellow
you're not looking well?" Should this be
allowed?

How about Miss Flamingo, who goes out in
a yellow shawl, a groseille dress, an amber-
coloured bonnet with pink roses, purple boots,
and green gloves; should there not be a
sumptuary law to keep this lady's exuberant taste in
order?

Is it good that the man who cuts your hair
should be at liberty to say, " Your hair is very
dry, sir; a little of our Balsamic Resuscitatorium
would make it quite another thing, sir?"
Again, does it add to our cheerfulness when
there appears at the end of the quiet street in