be deceptive, and as even a convict truly
reformed may relapse when he becomes entirely
his own master, the work of supervision is not
nominal but real, and is most efficiently
continued during his whole probation—that is,
until the sentence passed upon him by the judge
has expired. If, before that period, he is found
to deviate into courses suggestive of relapse
into a criminal career, or of proclivity towards
crime, his license is instantly cancelled, and he
is carried back to jail. . . . The Congress
for the Promotion of Social Science, held in
Dublin during the last summer, drew there a
concourse of English, many of whom were
conversant with the treatment of criminals, and
deeply interested in its amendment, and a large
number of persons, including many magistrates,
all competent to form a trustworthy opinion
upon the subject, came away convinced of the
great superiority of the Irish over the English
method of treatment."

If it be true that in Ireland there is a
"marvellous diminution in the return of old convicts
to jail, so common an occurrence in England," it
is certainly obvious that the Irish plan is better
than the English, and that a system of supervision
exercised over the liberated convict is the right
one. The fact is that a Preventive Police Force
is as necessary as a Detective Police. In more
than one case recently the police have appeared
in this phase, and notoriously bad characters
have most properly been arrested for loitering
about certain localities under such circumstances
as to give rise to the presumption that they had
a burglary in contemplation. This is as it
should be, but even such vigilance as this is not
all that is necessary.

What we contend for is simply that the
incorrigible rogue—to use a legal phrase—should
be kept away from the rest of the community.
A more dangerous animal could hardly be at
large than one of these often-convicted ruffians,
who returns when his sentence is expired to his
old haunts and his old companions. Far from
being improved by his punishment, he is
probably only hardened, and bears an additional
grudge against society, by which he has a sort
of vague impression that he has been hardly
used. What use is it to let that terrible being
loose among us? How is he going to live? He
has no settled means of occupation. He has
been a vagabond from boyhood. Is it likely
that now, coming out of prison for the fifth or
sixth time, he will suddenly become honest and
industrious? He will do nothing of the sort.
He has returned among us simply to qualify for
readmission into one of those great asylums for
rogues, of which he has already had so much
experience. Unfortunately, it is only by going
through a new curriculum of crime that he can
so qualify himself. Before those prison doors
open again to receive him, some poor old lady,
as in the recent case at Maida-hill, will have
been subjected to cruelties which it is intolerable
to think or write of, while two or three youngsters
hovering on the outskirts of crime will have
been induced, by this ruffian's example, to take
the fatal plunge. Murderous attacks,
robberies in the streets, assaults on the police
incapacitating them sometimes for a time,
sometimes altogether for the discharge of their duties
—these are some of the evils certain to result
from the liberation of that incorrigible rogue.
And yet, knowing this, we release him.
Misplaced leniency!

But is it leniency? Is it leniency to that
lonely and invalid lady whose grey hairs are
stained with blood? Is it leniency to the
wretched lads who are contaminated by this
man's example? Is it leniency to the policeman
whose life is beaten out of him, or who is left to
crawl years afterwards a cripple to the grave?
Is it leniency to the sinner himself to leave
him to the misguiding of his own corrupt nature,
and to suffer him to heap the load of new guilt
on his already guilty soul?

The true leniency, both to society at large
and to the criminal himself is, to deprive
him of that liberty with which he may not
safely be trusted; to keep him continually in
confinement; to mitigate as far as may be the
expense of his maintenance by finding out on
what laborious task he may usefully and
securely be employed, and to keep him to that
task under strong and constant supervision,
trusting him no more after he has so many
times proved to demonstration his utter
untrustworthiness. Trusting him no more? Nay
—that is saying too much. At last, towards
the end of his days, when years and years have
intervened between him and his crimes, when
age, if not habit, has unfitted him for violent
deeds, then, indeed, some milder sway might be
exercised over him, some more tolerable asylum
provided, in which he might end his days. For
the storm that has lasted through the day will
sometimes clear away in the evening, and the
sun, though weak and watery, will show for an
hour before it finally goes down.

RUSSIAN TRAVEL.

TULA, is a large government town of the
second class, with more than fifty thousand
inhabitants. It lies on the direct southern
military road to Odessa, rather more than a hundred
miles from Moscow, and five hundred and twenty
from St. Petersburg. Famous for cutlery and
ironmongery, Tula is called the Birmingham of
Russia, and in one sense it is so; for it is
astonishing how fond the Tula manufacturers
are of English names and marks. The name of
Rodgers, figures on many a bad Russian knife
and razor. Goods can be, and are, made at Tula
almost equal to the best English; the great bulk,
however, of the manufacture is bad in material,
and worse in workmanship.

A wise trader will endeavour to improve his
quality, establish a good name, and beat his rivals.
He will classify his wares, and depends for
prosperity on the faith of his customers in his desire
to let them have exactly what they want. A
Russian (there are exceptions to all general rules,
but in this matter unusually few) seems to care