strange to me after the three months'
imprisonment which preceded my trial. I
thought of how often I had passed through
those very streets, as free and happy as any of
the throng I saw there. Some stood to look
at our vehicle; though most were too busy
to take any heed of us. The sun was shining;
the shopkeepers, here and there, were unfurling
their street blinds, or watering the pavement
in front of their doors. A water-cart
had passed over one part of our route, and
the air seemed so fresh to me, who had been
used to the close atmosphere of a prison cell,
that I could have shut my eyes and fancied
myself in the country. The narrow strip of
sky between the two lines of houses which we
were able to observe above our roofless vehicle
seemed bluer than it had ever been before:
the colours of the shops were brighter; the
people in the streets, men, women, and
children, more neat and clean than when I
had seen them last. A business-like air was
in the countenances of most of them. Every
one seemed to be charged with an errand. I
almost wondered to see them wending so
gravely towards the city on such a fine
morning. Yet how often I had been one
of them; and had never dreamed, unless by
predetermination, of wandering away into
the country on such a fine day to enjoy that
liberty, of which I had never truly known
the value until then.

It was indeed many a day before I saw
again anything so refreshing as the sight of
the streets in that half-hour's ride. At
Milbank I remained about two months.
Meanwhile I heard nothing of what had
passed in the world outside the walls of my
prison -- what was the public opinion upon
my sentence; or whether the efforts of my
few friends on my behalf were likely to prove
successful. One night, however, I learnt
from a turnkey -- a kind-hearted man -- that
one of my fellow prisoners (not the principal
one) had confessed his guilt, and had
exonerated me from all participation in it: but
I heard no more. Nothing occurred to show
that this circumstance exercised a favourable
influence over my fate. Indeed, I knew that
such confessions have ordinarily little effect.
I was, therefore, not surprised when I heard
from the officer on duty, as he looked into
my cell one night, that we were to be removed
early on the following morning.

At about four o'clock we were accordingly
called forth, and ordered to put on an entirely
new suit of clothes, consisting of a coarse
brown serge jacket, waistcoat, breeches, stockings,
highlows, and a particularly frightful
skull-cap. All the articles appeared to
have been selected at random, without the
slightest reference to the dimensions of the
wearer; the jacket would have enveloped two
such bodies as mine, and the breeches scarcely
came down to my knees. A few minutes
were allowed for the slipping on of these
garments; after which every man received a
hunch of bread, and we were equipped for a
voyage of seventeen thousand miles. We
were formed in line, and handcuffed two
and two; a heavy iron chain, in addition,
being passed through a ring of the handcuff,
so as to fasten about a dozen of us together.
The signal was then given to march; and
we proceeded, under a strong guard of the
prison officers with muskets loaded, down
to the river side in front of the prison, to
embark.

Notwithstanding the early hour, a number
of persons were there to watch the process of
embarkation. Whatever may be said of the
failure of the Government in the systems for
the treatment of convicts, they have been
eminently successful in rendering their
appearance abject and pitiable: when to the
ugliness of the clothing was added the
total disregard of bulk and stature, the
appearance of some of our party was perfectly
ludicrous. The nether garments of one man,
intended to reach to the knee, only had to be
buttoned a little above his ancles; whilst
those of others did not extend to the knee.
Two hundred and twenty of us were conveyed
in three drafts on board a steamer in waiting
to convey us. Our boat contained seventy.
I could not help thinking of water parties of
a different character; but, upon the whole,
my mind was more tranquil than I could
have expected. I endeavoured, as far as
possible, to step out of myself and to speculate
upon the history and character of those who,
with one exception, were strangers to me;
but who were now to be my companions by
night and day, for at least four months; and.
to wonder if there was one among them with
whom I might hope to beguile the long and
wearisome days and nights of the coming
voyage.

At Milbank we had been kept upon the
silent and solitary system. The restraint
being removed aboard the steamer, every
man seemed determined to make up for lost
time. Many had been former acquaintances,
and had a world of news to exchange.
Nothing could have produced a stranger
effect than their conduct, contrasted with
their abject appearance, condition, and
prospects. They laughed, jested, and sang; and,
despite the chains with which they were
loaded, some of them even danced. My
nearest neighbour was one of the merriest..
He exulted in the many escapes he had had,
and in the fact that, after all, he was only
transported for ten years.

At Woolwich we were put aboard the
convict ship; every man as he descended into the
hold being numbered on the back, like one of
a flock of sheep. The centre of the vessel
was appropriated to the prisoners, and was
divided into compartments, each
accommodating eight men, with a square table and
seats of portable deal boards, arranged in tiers
-- above and below -- all round. At night these
were so disposed as to form sleeping berths.