Somewhat recently, it was resolved to
remove the institution out of town; to enlarge
and improve its character; and, by training
the boys on a farm school in the country, to
qualify them for emigration, or for home
employment distant from their old evil
companions. The Farm School at Red Hill
was therefore opened in April 1849, and by
degrees the entire substance of the town
establishment was carried off into East Surrey.

To the Philanthropic Farm School, following
the information written on the sign-post,
we direct our steps, recalling thus the history
of the place. Our way is down hill now, and
between the luxuriant hedges crowning the
high banks of red sandstone. Distant peeps
are caught of a broad richly wooded plain that
lies below. It is but a peep of country many
miles away that can be seen over the trees
that shade our down-hill path.

A dog has bidden us good morning in a
distant way, and walks before us, pausing
when we pause, returning half-way when we
linger, yet decidedly repulsing all familiarities.
A small bird, newly fledged, is fluttering
among the fern by the way side, and dies
in the dog's mouth despite our intervention.
Such a dog might contain the spirit of a
Mephistopheles; we quarrel with him
instantly, but still he goes before, and duly
takes the final turning that will bring us to
the Philanthropic Farm School.

A pleasant, rustic house by the hill-side,
with roses shining, in the hot sun, around its
windows! Through a flower-garden we come
to the door; and, keeping out the dog, obtain
admittance to the dwelling of the chaplain.
While we wait in the drawing-room, the dog,
who has coursed round the house, plunging
among roses, makes a triumphant entry
through the open window, and looks at us
for applause.

Aided by the resident chaplain upon whom
devolve all duties of superintendence, and
who is in fact the local manager of the whole
scheme, we proceed to walk about the Red Hill
farm and watch the labours of its youthful
population. We receive it as an encouraging
sign, that the good chaplain does not deem
it needful to put on his religion in the outward
and visible form of a grievous waistcoat;
or to make it known to all men by wearing
a clear-starched dog-collar round his throat.

The number of boys now at Red Hill is a
little over a hundred; and the number of acres
on the farm is about a hundred and thirty.
The boys vary in age from ten or eleven to
eighteen, and they vary also in the terms on
which they have been admitted. Some of the
youngest are children who have been
sentenced to transportation, and recommended
by the directors of Government prisons as
more fit to be kindly taught than harshly
punished. These are compelled to stay.

Others, are boys who, having suffered
punishment by law, are sent by their parents
to receive corrective training—the parents
paying a part of the expense incurred on their
behalf. These may be removed at the
discretion of their parents.

Others, are boys who come as volunteers,
on the expiration of their punishment, from
various Houses of Correction; being assisted
in their own desire to become honest men.
These may remove themselves at their own
discretion.

Others, are boys who, by a recent law, have
received conditional pardons, and have been,
excused some of the last months of a term of
imprisonment, on condition that they be
transferred to some place where they will receive
for a longer term educational discipline.
These may be compelled by law to stay; but,
after the term of their first sentence has
expired, it becomes necessary to regard them
very much as volunteers.

It is obvious that boys differing so greatly in
age, and working upon the farm under so
many differing circumstances, cannot be
managed by one rigid system. Military
discipline does not suit children; the drill-
sergeant is an excellent man in his way, but,
they are not to be drilled into honesty and
virtue. We have twice visited Parkhurst,
and have taken pains to get what information
we could upon the subject of that Government
Reformatory, and we are convinced that its
failure—there can be no doubt that it fails
utterly—is the natural result of a blind reliance
upon discipline, too many unbending rules and
regulations, too little comprehension of the
wants and humours of a child, too much letter
and too little spirit. We are glad, therefore, to
find at Red Hill that the rules are few, the
punishments still fewer. Boys are trained to
think for themselves; each is judged on his
own merits, and guided as far as possible
with a strict view to the development of his
own character. Good people are multiform
as blossoms in the summer hedge. A military
man, turned gardener, might drill everything
he found in a garden, into rows of plants,
properly arranged according to their heights
and sizes; and might then proceed to prune
them all, water them all, smoke them all,
precisely in the same way. In a year or two
his process would be as clear a failure as the
human gardening in Parkhurst.

The boys at Red Hill are taught, if possible,
to think and act on honest, kindly principles.
Responsibilities are placed upon their
shoulders; they are even trusted out of sight,
and are, as it were, prisoners on parole, living
where there are no bars to break, no walls
to climb. Dispersed about the grounds,
are houses containing dormitories, washing-
rooms, and other chambers, a forge, a
carpenter's shop, a cottage for the farm-bailiff,
a dairy, cowsheds, piggeries, and other
buildings. In one part, a new house is being built
to contain dormitories; and, to increase the
accommodation for boys on the farm, and
elsewhere, a new blacksmith's shop is being
built. All such opportunities are used for