“An Old Bow Street officer, who yet lives in the neighborhood, has detailed strange and terrible scenes to me. One I will give as nearly as possible in his own words, omitting some unpleasant vulgarities: ‘One of my mates come to me, as near as I can guess, it might be two o’clock in the afternoon. Says he, ‘P——, you must come up to the office directly.’ It was in Hatton Garden then, sir, close by. ‘What for?’ says I. ‘Oh!’ says he, ‘there’s the Irish murdering one another on Saffron Hill, and the place is blocked up with the mobs.’ So I takes my staff, and my cutlass, and my pistols, and away I went up to the office. It wasn’t a minute’s walk scarce, you know. Well, sir, there they was, breaking one another’s limbs on Saffron Hill, hundreds of Irish with great sticks and pokers; ever so many had been taken off to the hospitals wounded; they was so spiteful, the shopkeepers put up their shutters, and the place was full of Irish, cutting and slashing like mad, and coming from all parts, taking sides and fighting one against another. Well, sir, there was only six of us, and we found we must turn out. ‘My lads,’ said the head constable—and he didn’t like it at all, he didn’t—says he, ‘this is a queer job, but go we must!’ Well, sir, away we went, but it warnt no use at all; the mob didn’t mind our cutlasses a bit; great big fellows come up to us with their pokers, and we warnt in no pleasant situation in no respect. Well, I saw there’d be murder very shortly, and suddenly a thought struck me, and away I went round the corner—may be you knows the shop—it was a shop where they sold almost every thing then. Well, I knocked, but they were afraid to open the door. Says I, ‘It’s me, Mrs. ——, and do let me in;’ so they let me in. Says I, ‘Let me have some red paint of some sort immediately;’ so they gave me some rouge or carmine, I don’t know which it was. So I took out my pistols and put in a charge of powder, then some paper, then I wetted a lot of this paint and put it in, and some paper loose over it, and off I went. Well, there was my mates hemmed in, but no lives lost, thank God; they was fighting away; well, a great chap come up to me with a poker or a fender a-fighting with, so I outs with a pistol, and, says I, ‘Stand back!’ and presents it at him. Well, he didn’t stand back, so I fired at him. Well, sir, you may depend on it, (I shall never forget it,) the force of the powder and wadding knocked him right off his legs. It caught him in the forehead, and the red paint made his face look just as if it was all covered with blood. They made sure he was a dead man, and some carried him off to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, and the mob got frightened at us and dispersed. They didn’t know whose turn might come next. Well, sir, when they came to examine my man, at the hospital, and washed his face, it set ’em a wondering, for they found there wasn’t no wound at all. The man was partly stunned, and soon walked home. Well, sir, the story got wind, and them Irish was so pleased with it afterwards, (when they come to their proper reason and sobriety, they could see it had perhaps prevented real murder, for they was getting terrible spiteful when I let fly)—they was so pleased many of ’em would have done anything for me afterwards. The housekeepers in the neighborhood, too, made us a handsome present, and I was told about that red paint job a long while afterwards, you may depend on it, sir.’”
If this hint could be taken by our war-makers, it might save a large portion of the miseries which past generations have endured, and which ours may not otherwise escape.
New Work on the Effects of Separate Confinement.—We regret that want of space forbids us to insert in the present number of our Journal a notice of a volume of 300 pages, published a few weeks since by Longman & Co., London, entitled, “Results of the System of Separate Confinement, as administered at the Pentonville Prison. By John Burt, B. A., Assistant Chaplain, formerly Chaplain to the Hanwell Lunatic Asylum.” The positions taken in this volume, and the facts and arguments by which they are maintained, are such as the opponents of separation will find it difficult to controvert or rebut.
Suffice it for the present to say, that in the author’s view every departure from the principle of rigid, individual separation in that prison, has been attended with evil consequences.
The Elizabeth Fry Refuge—Instituted in London for affording a Temporary Asylum for Destitute Females on their release from the Metropolitan and other Gaols, their moral and religious improvement, and the arranging for their future destination and welfare, was founded as a memorial to the late Mrs. Elizabeth Fry. It has been in operation three years, and has admitted above 200 cases, varying in ages from 12 to 35, most of whom have been either provided with situations, restored to their friends, or sent, after a probationary term, to other asylums; and it is gratifying to state that comparatively but few cases of disappointment have occurred.
Ohio Lunatic Asylum.—The Lunatic Asylum at Columbus, (O.,) is now full, containing upwards of five hundred patients. In 14 years there have been admitted 2,116 patients, of which 1,038 were discharged recovered. What is very singular, it is stated that of the number admitted, 505 were farmers, being more than twelve times the number of any other occupation, except laborers, of which there were one hundred and sixty! The next highest on the list is teachers, being 40.
Perhaps the opponents of convict separation will account for this phenomenon on the ground that farmers are isolated, and have so little intercourse with any body or thing except oxen, horses or ploughs; but this would not account for the still more extraordinary proportion of teachers who (as others might contend) lost their wits for want of seclusion.