Some of the prisoners have the means of dressing themselves decently when they leave the prison, and of living till they can find employment; but the greater part of them go away from that place in very mean clothing, and with not a dollar in their pockets. In this situation they are turned loose upon the world, often far from their friends, and not a soul to apply to for assistance. They cannot get into work any where, for they carry "the mark of the BEAST," not only "in their foreheads," but "on the borders of their garments," and every body shuns them. They have no money, and consequently they must either beg, or steal. Nor are they moral agents in this case; necessity is laid upon them and they must do it. The Superintendent said the same to me once when we were conversing on this subject. "If they do not get into employment within three days from their leaving the prison," said he, "which is next to impossible, they must either beg, steal, or die."—Is it not a pity that this man did not do something for the benefit of those who were going out into such a probation as would try the integrity of a saint? especially when the government authorised him to?

One reason why the convicts leave the prison in such a shabby dress, is, that no care is taken with the clothes that are worn thither; all the garments which the prisoners wear to the prison, are thrown together in a garret, and left for the moths to prey upon. By this means the poor garments become worse, and many that were excellent are destroyed; so that when the owners have occasion to wear them again, they are good for nothing. Even new garments which the prisoners purchase while there, are often so much neglected as to be greatly injured, and sometimes nearly spoiled. And some valuable articles, such as boots, hats, and vests, have been lost through the carelessness of the keepers. In these things, however, there has been some reform of late, and I hope it will be carried through.

Another reason why some of the prisoners fare no better when they leave the prison, is, that some one of the keepers has a spite to gratify, and he takes this opportunity, not only because it is the last, but because it best suits the malignity of his purpose.

I have seen some leave the prison in the winter, with thin summer garments; some without a hat; and many scores who were not fit to be seen with a company of colliers. They had served their time out in a penitentiary; but their appearance was enough to demonstrate to all that saw them, that they had been under the care of impenitent keepers. They went out among human beings, but like him who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves, both the priest and the Levite shunned them, and they were not often fortunate enough to be noticed by a SAMARITAN. The truth of the case is, the law in this particular is faulty. No man ought ever to be turned out upon society as these prisoners are. If they deserve to be free, give them a freedom suit, and money to get into business; but if they do not, keep them till they do. Give a man a fair chance to become honest, and not place his principles where Gabriel's would be polluted. If men desire to make sinners better, let them help them to reform, and not place them under a necessity to do wrong. Let there be an adherence to principle, and if punishment is to be under the government of mercy, let it be merciful throughout; but if it is not designed to reform, then say so—write your laws in blood—catch every criminal you can, and either hang him or shut him up for life. Let there be consistency between principle and conduct, and if it is the purpose of the law to make its ministers furies, let them not be clothed as angels of light.

This neglect of the prisoner when he is released, is the great cause of so many re-commitments, either to the same, or other prisons. The man is unable to get into employment. He reads scorn in every eye. He has no clothes fit to wear. He has no home, nor pillow to lay his head on. He spends his days on the highway, and his nights in the field or in some barn. He has not a crust of bread to satisfy the imperious demands of hunger. He drinks the running brook. His spirits sink down. He is a stranger in his own country, and a hermit in the midst of society. He is starving in the midst of plenty. Uncared for by others, he forgets all care about himself. Worse off he cannot be, he may be better. He has nothing to lose, and any change must be in his favour. He puts forth exertion and cares not how the experiment results. Look at this man. Is not his situation almost an excuse for any thing he may do? Place yourself there, and conjecture how you would act. What can he do? What could an angel do in his circumstances? Here, you who would trace second offences to their cause, here is the reason why so many return to their former abodes. Where, I ask, is the mercy of a penitentiary, which treats its subjects thus? Don't say that they could get into employment. They could not. Would you employ a man so meanly clothed, that he was not fit to tend your hogs, and whose every appearance told you he had either been released from state prison, or broken out of gaol? You would not. Neither would your neighbours. What then could he do? Let the benevolent think of this, and act accordingly. That is not benevolence which sits by the sufferer only to rivet his chains, and leaves him when it can torment him no more. This penitentiary is like the thieves who fell upon the traveller to Jericho, it strips its victims of their raiment, and leaves them half dead.