"Two hours, if you like, Harding; it's all the same to me," replied Churchill wearily.

"I want you to tell me what ails you,-what has worked such a complete change in you, physically and morally; or rather, I don't want you to tell me, for I know."

Churchill looked up defiantly with flushed cheeks, as he exclaimed, "What do you know? are my private affairs topics for the tittle-tattle of-there, God help me! I'm weak as water. Now I want to quarrel with my best friend!"

"No, you don't, old man; and you would get no quarrel out of me, if you wished it ever so much. But I can't bear this any longer; I can't bear to see you losing your health and your spirits, and wearing yourself out day by day as you are, without coming to the rescue. Let us look the matter boldly in the face at once. You're-you're not quite happy at home, Frank, eh?"

"Happy!" he echoed with a strange hollow laugh; "no, not entirely perhaps."

"Well, that's a bad thing; but it's curable. At all events, giving way to moping and misery won't help it. Many men have begun their married life in wretchedness, and emerged, when they least expected it, into sunshine. Here are two young people who have not known each other above a couple of months, both of whom have very possibly been spoiled beforehand, and they arrive each with their own particular stock of whims and fancies, which they declare shall be carried out by the other. It takes time to rub down all the angles and points, and to provide for the regular working of the machinery; and it is never done by a jump. You've fine material to work upon too; if Mrs. Churchill were vulgar or uneducated, or did not care for you, you would have great difficulties to contend with. But as she is exactly the reverse of all this, she ought to be easily managed. Don't you understand that in these matters one or the other must have the upperhand? and that one should be the husband! The supremacy once asserted, all works well; not until then, and generally the struggle, though sharp, is very short. Every thing is wrong, and the whole machine is out of gear. You've let her have her own way too much, my friend. You must tighten the curb and see the result."

"If you were a horseman, Harding," said Frank with a dreary smile, "you would know that tightening the curb sometimes produces the worst of rebellious vices-rearing!"

"Oh, no fear of that; no fear of that. Try it! You really must do something, Frank; I can't bear to see you giving way like this. You must assert yourself, my good fellow, and at once; for though it may be bad now, it will be ten times worse hereafter, and you'll bitterly rue not having taken my advice."

And George Harding went home and told his wife what he had

done, and assured her that she would find matters speedily set to rights in Great Adullam Street now.

And Frank Churchill walked home, pondering on the advice he had just received and finally determining within himself to adopt it. He supposed he had been weak and wanting in proper self-respect. Harding was always the reflex, of his wife's sentiments, and doubtless that whole set of wretched tabbies had been pitying him as a poor spiritless creature. He would take Harding's advice and bring the matter to an issue at once.

He went into his little study and had just seated himself at his desk to commence his work when Barbara entered the room. She was dressed in her bonnet and shawl; her eyes were swollen, and there were traces of recent tears still on her cheeks; the muscles round her mouth were working visibly, and her whole frame was quivering with excitement. As she closed the door behind her, she seemed to control herself with one great effort, then walking straight to the desk she said, in a broken and trembling voice, "I want you to answer me a question."

"Barbara!" said Frank, whose intended firmness had all melted away before her haggard appearance, "Barbara!" and he rose and put out his hand to draw her to him.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, starting back. "Don't lay one finger upon me until-until you have answered my question. This morning you left this envelope on the dressing-table; tell me who is the writer and what were the contents."

She tossed an envelope on to the desk as she spoke, and leant with one hand against the wall.

"That envelope,” said Frank, speaking very slowly, "is mine. I utterly deny your right to ask me any thing about it; I utterly refuse to satisfy your curiosity."

"Curiosity! it is not that; God knows it is not that feeling merely that prompts me. This is the second time you have, to my knowledge, received letters in that writing. The first time was at Bissett, when you left suddenly, immediately after its receipt. I suspected then, but had no right to ask; now I have the right, and I demand to know!" "I can only repeat what I said before: I most positively decline to tell you."

"Beware, Frank! You ought to know me by this time; but you don't. If you don't satisfy me on this point, I leave you for ever."

"You have your answer," said Frank; "now let me get to my work."

"You still refuse?"

"You heard what I said."

She drew herself up and left the room; the next minute he heard the street-door shut, and, running to the dining-room window, saw her hail a cab and get into it.

"There's the first lesson, at all events," said he to himself.

“When

she comes back to dinner, she will be cooler, and more amenable to reason."

He finished his work, and walked down with it to the Statesman Office. On his return he found a commissionaire in the hall talking to his servant. He asked the latter where her mistress was, but the girl said she had not come in, at the same time handing him a letter. It was very brief; it merely said:

"You have decided; and henceforth you and I never meet again. Mrs. Schröder, with whom I am staying, will send her maid for a box which I have left ready packed. I hope you may be more happy with your correspondent, and in your return to your old life, than you have been with B. C."

As Frank Churchill read this, the lines wavered before his eyes, and he reeled against the wall.

Penal Legislation.

THE small amount of penal legislation initiated by Sir George Grey's bill, as the result of the late voluminous report of the Royal Commissioners, has taken us by surprise, and is a fine illustration of the "Parturiunt montes, nascitur ridiculus mus" motto. We expected something far more serious, after the mortal terror into which the nation had been thrown by the fear of ticket-of-leave men. There has been "a great cry, but very little wool."

Sir George Grey's bill, which is now the law of the land, originally contained but one clause of the slightest importance-namely, that which enacted that the shortest convict-sentence should, for the future, be for five, instead of for three, years. An amendment was afterwards proposed, and carried in opposition to the Government, in favour of police supervision, to which we shall call attention by and by.

But while surprised at so short a bill, we by no means regret that the labour and fright of the nation should result in the production of so small a mouse, although the mouse has two sharp teeth; on the contrary, we are gratified at it. Sir George felt he should do something, and, like a wise man or minister, did as little in the way of tinkering our present convict-machinery as he possibly could. Had he omitted the five years' clause, he would have done even better; but he did not know "how not to do it," and to have done nothing at all would have shocked the good sense of the nation. When doctors are called in, they must prescribe something: what is the use of calling in a doctor, or of having a consultation of doctors-a regular Royal Commissionif nothing is to result from it? The Home Secretary saw this, and prescribed for the patient-that is, for the public, whose nerves had been affected by a fright, or what Mr. Punch would call "the nasty panics" -a soothing draught. Whether the mixture will agree with the ticketof-leave men remains to be proved. But that does not signify, provided Mr. and Mrs. Bull are allowed a quiet night's rest.

Not many years ago, the shortest penal sentence was four years. This was found to be too long, so a three years' sentence was substituted in its stead, which, in its turn, is found to be too short. What the next shortest or longest sentence may be, we shall not venture to predict.

The effect of the last little bit of convict-legislation has been to deprive judges of the power of inflicting a sentence of three or four years. They must take their choice between two or five. The utmost term of imprisonment in a county or borough jail is for two years, and the shortest sentence to a convict-prison is for five years; so that we have nothing to fill up the intermediate vacuum between the two or the five years.

VOL. XII.

R

The public who are uninitiated in prison-discipline will view this as a great anomaly, and ask the cause, and inquire if there be no offences or crimes demanding a three or a four years' sentence of imprisonment. They will ask how it is that the gradations of crime should gradually rise, step by step, so as to be measured by penalties varying from one month to two years, and then remain at a dead-level till they suddenly attain an elevation or an enormity demanding a sentence of five years. They will ask if there be no intermediate crimes demanding penalties of three or four years.

The reply which they will receive to these questions is, that the great vacuum between a sentence of two years in a borough or county prison and five years in a convict-prison, is only apparent, and might be over-stepped by a child, inasmuch as two years' confinement in a borough or county prison is almost equal to four years' confinement in a convict-prison.

Taking for granted that this is a correct reply, we naturally ask why should such a distinction exist in the penal discipline of our county and convict prisons. How is it that the one should be only half as long and twice as severe as the other?

The general and only answer is, A convict with a sentence of five years could not stand the severe discipline-that is, the close confinement and inferior food of a county prison-for so long a time. We are compelled, therefore, in order to carry out a long sentence, to relax the vigour of our discipline. Increased time must be compensated for by an increased and better kind of food. In this way we neutralise the effect of a long sentence, which loses more than half its terrors.

Would it not be wise to decide at once whether long or short sentences are the most effective in the reformation of the criminal, and adopt at least a uniform discipline in our county and convict prisons?

We have no hesitation, after an experience of seven or eight years in one of our largest convict-prisons, in saying, that if our great object be the reformation of the criminal, the shorter his stay in an associate convict-prison the better; that the sooner the work of reformation is accomplished, the better for the prisoner and for society. A large publicworks prison is a fearful ordeal to a new prisoner. It is like the ancient ordeal of walking on heated bars of iron. A refiner of silver-to which the Saviour of mankind compares Himself-could inform us, that if the metal be left too long in the furnace, it will be injured; the refiner therefore watches it carefully, till it grows sufficiently bright to reflect his own image, and then takes it out.

Long sentences are adopted under the impression that they are likely to deter the prisoner from repeating his crime. It is supposed that a man who has suffered incarceration for seven or eight years will be in greater dread of a convict-prison than those who have been let out after two or three years. Experience proves that the very contrary of this is the case. After six or seven years, a prison loses most of its