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the earth.' Moreover, it was not an unwonted or un-
He is their help and their shield.
Ye that fear the Lord, trust in the Lord;
The Lord has been mindful of us; He will bless,
He will bless the house of Israel,
He will bless the house of Aaron;
He will bless them that fear the Lord,
'Let Israel now say,
That His loving-kindness lasts for ever!
Let the house of Aaron now say,
That His loving-kindness lasts for ever!
That His loving-kindness lasts for ever!'
In truth the 'foreign settlers' whom the Pentateuchal
McFadyen: The Messages of the Psalmists,' p. 283.
adherents to Israel's faith. It is thus, at any rate, that
'The Holy One loves the Gerim exceedingly. To what is the
Great as was the love of the psalmists for Jerusalem,
'Great is Yahweh, and highly to be praised,
In the city of our God, in His holy mountain,
We have to admit that the psalmists, like all their
'Glorious things are spoken of thee,
Zion, the city of God.
Rahab and Babel I mention among those that know me,
But Zion-she shall be called Mother,
For each and all were born in her.' †
Not physically born there, not resident there, not even
'for sorrows endured and services rendered, not as a monopoly
C. G. MONTEFIORE.
Art. 2.--AN ENGLISH PRISON FROM WITHIN.
THE aim of this article is to give the reader a record of the writer's impressions of our prison system, and, in particular, of its moral and mental effect upon convicted prisoners. It is based upon some twelve months' experience of prison life, of which four months were spent in a large London prison, and nearly eight months in a smaller county gaol.* My offence happened to be that of 'disobedience' to military orders on the ground of conscientious objection to all war; but I do not wish to lay any stress on the nature of the offence, or on the justice of the two successive sentences imposed, except in so far as these considerations gave us a different outlook from the ordinary 'criminals' occupying the adjoining cells. We objectors to conscription were not conscious of any guilt involved in the act for which we were committed to gaol; on the contrary, we were, more or less powerfully, sustained in our endurance by a faith in the righteousness, and, in many cases, in the supremely Christian character of the cause for which we conceived ourselves to be suffering loss of liberty and a measure of persecution. Rightly or wrongly, this was our conviction, and it reacted, of course, upon our impressions of prison, and differentiated them in some important respects from those of a hardened or a penitent 'offender.' But the main tendencies of the system, its general effects on character and mentality, seemed to me to be sufficiently clear, and to be of a similar nature for all prisoners involved. Almost all conscientious objectors courtmartialled have received sentences of hard labour' (which may be repeated indefinitely) varying from 112 days to two years; and, until the last week of my imprisonment, we were treated, with a few unimportant exceptions, in the same way as other prisoners undergoing
In addition, I had two periods of some five weeks each in a regimental detention room. The conditions here were far preferable to prison. The only way in which they concern the subject of this article is that we had opportunities of talking freely to men who had done time' for burglary and other offences. Their conversation and bearing helped us to look at prisons from the point of view of the class of offender for whom they are primarily intended.
I was discharged in December 1917, as the result of the Government's undertaking to release men suffering materially in health.
hard labour in the third division. At the end of 1917, a few privileges were accorded to objectors who had been at least twelve months under sentence; of these the only ones of value are the permission to have books sent in from the outside, and the provision daily of two periods of exercise, at which talking in pairs is allowed.
Each generation of mankind is only too apt to imagine that the particular social conditions under which it happens to live have persisted with but small changes from remote antiquity; and it is well to emphasise the essentially modern and novel character of the prison system, as it exists to-day, with but slight variations, throughout the British Isles. This system seems to have been inaugurated during the second half of the 18th century in one or two local experiments that came to nothing, and to have been given a partial trial at the famous Millbank Penitentiary opened in 1816, but only to have been really developed in the forties of the last century, when the principle of entire separation was adopted by the Government as the result of a Commission of enquiry into the methods of American penitentiaries. During the period 1840-60 some sixty new 'cellular' prisons were built, beginning with the 'model' institution at Pentonville as we have it to-day. Only from 1877, when the Prison Act placed all gaols under the newly-formed board of Prison Commissioners, has the present uniformity of discipline held sway. Before the opening of Millbank, with its 1000, and Pentonville, with its 520 separate cells, indiscriminate herding together of offenders was the general rule. Practically, therefore, the present régime of silence and solitude is less than eighty years old. Have its results in any way justified even this term of existence?
It may be premised that the usual hard-labour sentence begins with a month of strict confinement to one's cell (apart from exercise and chapel), accompanied by a fortnight's plank bed and other disabilities, while, after the first month, good conduct secures one the privilege of 'associated' but silent labour during part of the day.
The characteristics of the system, as impressed upon me by many dreary weeks of experience, seemed to group themselves around three main heads, which I propose to illustrate successively: firstly, discomfort for the body