al part in this nefarious transaction. It is not the first
offence, as I observe from a paper I hold in my hand. The younger
prisoner, Marston, has very properly been found guilty of criminal
complicity with the same offence. It may be that he has been concerned
in other offences against the law, but of that we have no proof before
this court. He has not been previously convicted. I do not offer advice
to the elder criminal; his own heart and conscience, the promptings of
which I assume to be dulled, not obliterated, I feel convinced, have
said more to him in the way of warning, condemnation, and remorse than
could the most impressive rebuke, the most solemn exhortation from a
judicial bench. But to the younger man, to him whose vigorous frame
has but lately attained the full development of early manhood, I feel
compelled to appeal with all the weight which age and experience may
lend. I adjure him to accept the warning which the sentence I am about
to pass will convey to him, to endure his confinement with submission
and repentance, and to lead during his remaining years, which may be
long and comparatively peaceful, the free and necessarily happy life
of an honest man. The prisoner Starlight is sentenced to seven years'
imprisonment; the prisoner Richard Marston to five years' imprisonment;
both in Berrima Gaol.'

I heard the door of the dock unclose with a snap. We were taken out; I
hardly knew how. I walked like a man in his sleep. 'Five years, Berrima
Gaol! Berrima Gaol!' kept ringing in my ears.

The day was done, the stars were out, as we moved across from the
courthouse to the lock-up. The air was fresh and cool. The sun had gone
down; so had the sun of our lives, never to rise again.

Morning came. Why did it ever come again? I thought. What did we want
but night?--black as our hearts--dark as our fate--dismal as the death
which likely would come quick as a living tomb, and the sooner the
better. Mind you, I only felt this way the first time. All men do, I
suppose, that haven't been born in gaols and workhouses. Afterwards they
take a more everyday view of things.

'You're young and soft, Dick,' Starlight said to me as we were rumbling
along in the coach next day, with hand and leg-irons on, and a trooper
opposite to us. 'Why don't I feel like it? My good fellow, I have felt
it all before. But if you sear your flesh or your horse's with a red-hot
iron you'll find the flesh hard and callous ever after. My hea