ury or mistake, are indiscriminately herded. With them are mixed
Chinamen from Hong Kong, the Aborigines of New Holland, West Indian
blacks, Greeks, Caffres, and Malays, soldiers for desertion, idiots,
madmen, pig-stealers, and pick-pockets. The dreadful place seems set
apart for all that is hideous and vile in our common nature. In its
recklessness, its insubordination, its filth, and its despair, it
realizes to my mind the popular notion of Hell.

May 21st.--Entered to-day officially upon my duties as Religious
Instructor at the Settlement.

An occurrence took place this morning which shows the dangerous
condition of the Ring. I accompanied Mr. Pounce to the Lumber Yard,
and, on our entry, we observed a man in the crowd round the cook-house
deliberately smoking. The Chief Constable of the Island--my old friend
Troke, of Port Arthur--seeing that this exhibition attracted Pounce's
notice, pointed out the man to an assistant. The assistant, Jacob
Gimblett, advanced and desired the prisoner to surrender the pipe. The
man plunged his hands into his pockets, and, with a gesture of the most
profound contempt, walked away to that part of the mess-shed where the
"Ring" congregate.

"Take the scoundrel to gaol!" cried Troke.

No one moved, but the man at the gate that leads through the carpenter's
shop into the barracks, called to us to come out, saying that the
prisoners would never suffer the man to be taken. Pounce, however, with
more determination than I gave him credit for, kept his ground, and
insisted that so flagrant a breach of discipline should not be suffered
to pass unnoticed. Thus urged, Mr. Troke pushed through the crowd, and
made for the spot whither the man had withdrawn himself.

The yard was buzzing like a disturbed hive, and I momentarily expected
that a rush would be made upon us. In a few moments the prisoner
appeared, attended by, rather than in the custody of, the Chief
Constable of the island. He advanced to the unlucky assistant constable,
who was standing close to me, and asked, "What have you ordered me to
gaol for?" The man made some reply, advising him to go quietly, when the
convict raised his fist and deliberately felled the man to the ground.
"You had better retire, gentlemen," said Troke. "I see them getting out
their knives."

We made for the gate, and the crowd closed in like a sea upon the two
constables. I fully expected murder, but in a few moments Troke and
Gimblett appeared, bo