while equally effectual, it would be more transient in its operation, and if it stopped short of death, less horrible to think of, from being applied to the body, not to the mind. I speak this in*sincere earnest, being of opinion, after much patient investigation of the subject, both in North and South America, and elsewhere, that there really is no torture more severe, even to a virtuous mind, than absolute solitude; and that to one which has nothing but vice in its retrospect, the misery becomes absolutely unbearable.

On the 10th of December, while these topics were fresh in my thoughts, I visited the Bridewell, or common jail, of Philadelphia, in company with the gentleman who had shown me the intended solitary prison. Nothing, I thought at first sight, could be much worse than the scene which I now witnessed. Some of the prisoners had been sent there for petty offences, some to take their trial for the most heinous crimes; but the whole mass of guilt, by conviction, or by anticipation, or by mere suspicion, black and white, were all huddled indiscriminately together in a great court-yard, or under a long covered shed, where they were left to lounge about in absolute idleness, and to indulge in the most unrestrained intercourse; forming, as my friend justly observed, a complete high school of practical iniquity. At night, these same per

1

sons were confined in parties of ten, twenty, or thirty, in each room, where the lessons of the day were repeated, and the plans of future villainy no doubt matured.

The advocate of solitary confinement called upon me at this moment to say, whether any thing could be worse than what I now saw before me; and asked triumphantly, if it would not be a great improvement to have all these people confined in separate cells?

I admitted that it was difficult, at first sight, to conceive any thing much worse.

"At all events,” I observed, "it is satisfactory to see no boys amongst this crowd of old sinners."

"Oh !” said the keeper, with an air of glee, and a sort of chuckle, as he rattled a bundle of keys,

66

we keep the youngsters in another part of the establishment, quite in a different manner; they can come to none of the mischiefs of evil communication."

"I should like much to see how you manage that," I observed to him.

So he and I, leaving the rest of the party, walked off together through a long series of halfdarkened passages joined by flights of steps, some leading up, some down, till at length, far away from the rest of the world, we came to a range of cells, each ten feet by six, the passage with

which they were connected being feebly lighted by a narrow window at the end. These dens were closed by iron doors, with chinks left for air, and in each of them was confined a single boy, who was left there both day and night, in absolute solitude;—without employment of any kind, without books, and far beyond the reach of appeal to any human being.

I went close to one of the cells, in which, as soon as my eyes became accustomed to the degree of light, I could distinguish, between the plates of iron which formed the door, a fine-looking lad, about thirteen years of age. On asking the keeper what crime the boy had committed to merit such severe punishment, I was told that he had twice ran away from his master, to whom he was apprenticed. This was literally the sole offence for which he had been thus caged up during no less a period than nine weeks!

Speak to him, sir,” said the keeper.—I did so, and asked him how he liked it?

"I am very miserable, sir," he said, "I am almost dead."

"What do you do with yourself-how do you employ your time ?”

"I just walk up and down here-miserable !” "Have you no books ?"

“No, sir."

"Did not you tell me a little ago,” said I, turning to the keeper, "that in every cell there was a Bible?"

"O, yes, I did; but all those belonging to the boys were worn out and gone long ago.”

"Have they, then, absolutely no means of employing themselves ?"

"None whatever," was the reply.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN America, there is no system of mutual concert and assistance amongst the publishers of books, as there certainly might be, though not very easily, and greatly to the advantage of the public and of themselves. The praiseworthy and spirited exertions of some leading persons in this line of business, to accomplish the point in question, have been always unavailing, and, consequently, there is not at this moment the slightest concert, nor any combined system of subscribing and circulating books, according to the practice in England. It is true, many of the circumstances are very different, as I shall presently show; but still plans might easily be devised, which would greatly advance the cause of literature, could the Trade,' as they are called, be brought to act cordially together.

6

No foreigner, unless he be a resident in the United States, can take out a copyright in America, either openly, or by indirect contrivance.