reformation, by enforcing reflection. Their error, and consequent
failure in producing the good they expected, I conceive arises from
their having neglected to adopt any plan for the improvement of the
prisoners when they have separated them. They work, it seems, every
day for years in silence, without intermission, except the time
allowed for meals, which are always taken in solitude. The Bible is
the only book allowed them--no paper nor pens: and this is called
giving them habits of industry. I should say nothing can be more
calculated to disgust them with every description of work all the rest
of their days. If you can beget habits of industry, with a
proportionate improvement of the mind, and an increased sense of the
moral duties, which will bring right notions of _meum_ and _tuum_,
then habits of industry are of the utmost importance to the prisoner;
as through these habits only can he obtain his bread, when brought to
that state of mind which makes him prefer honesty to roguery. This can
only be brought about by reflection, it is true; but I am afraid the
term reflection, as here applied, is used in a very abstract sense. If
it is meant the culprit should reflect on his having done wrong, I
answer this he always does, under any punishment, however slight: he
cannot but be aware of the cause which places him under coercion, and
regret it. This kind of reflection only makes him more sorry for
having been detected in his crime, than for having committed it. To
reflect with advantage in solitude, there must be some materials
stored in the mind; or books must be read to furnish these materials:
if these be supplied, however unwilling a being may be to reflect, no
mind will be long able to resist the temptation of mental employment,
if in continual solitude. But if a mind, totally void of sources of
reflection, be shut up in a cell for years, or even for months, what
can be expected but that every day will stultify its powers, and at
last render it callous and unimpressable; or in the end imbecile, and