as singular in itself, as in
contrast with those around. It struck me as that of an English
cabin-boy, a pale, freckled, ill-conditioned lad. On following the
calling over of the register in roll, I found my conjecture too true. He
was an unfortunate young sailor, a native of England, guilty of some
misdemeanour, and by name Aikin. He understood not a word of French, but
protested with a shake of his head against his being English; patriotism
had in him outlived honesty and self-respect. I spoke to him in English:
he wept, but would not reply, puckering up his poor lips in all the
agony of his desolate condition. I was glad to remark the humanity with
which he had been chained to a prisoner, pensive and downcast like
himself.

There were some cases certainly hard; one or two for resisting the
_gen-d'armerie_ in a riot at Rouen. To transport a rioter, unless under
aggravated circumstances, is grievous enough; but after the revolution
of July, that hallowed riot, to make a galley-slave of a _brave_ for
resisting the police, must have been at least surprising to him. The
tribunal no doubt felt the necessity of severity; and we acknowledged it
all in deploring the degradation of these poor devils for an act, which
in so many thousand others was, at the moment, extolled to the skies as
the acme of heroism. But justice hath her lottery-wheel as well as
fortune.

As the last _chaine_ was completing, an ecclesiastic went round to
collect money of the visitors. But as there were few, so were the
offerings. The convicts at the same time produced the fruits of their
ingenuity in straw work-boxes, needle-cases, carved ivory and wood. The
guardians, to do them justice, seemed humane.

The _bagne_ at Toulon, the destination of the members of the _chaine_,
was respectably peopled when I visited it some years ago. It contained
amongst others, Sarrazin, a famous general, who had deserted to us from
Buonaparte, and whose works on the Spanish and other campaigns, are
still read with interest. The general had caught the inexcusable habit
of marrying a wife in each town wherein he was quartered, and was sent
to the gallies for _trigintagamy_. They boasted a bishop too amongst the
convicts at Toulon, a merry little fellow, that bore his fate gaily, and
who still contrived to exercise a kind of spiritual supremacy over his
unfortunate comrades.

The ingenuity and hardihood of these men is surprising. Despite the
vigilance, the ramparts,