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Much has been advanced by modern writers respecting the demoralising effect of prison society; and it has been asserted, that a youth once confined in Newgate, is certain to come out a confirmed thief. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. “Girls of sixteen do not need their own laundry hampers. You’ve got to take what you can get. . Lucy Albert?” “Yes, sir?” She replied, opening the door as Cathy rose from the couch and Larry stirred from his bed. “I’m sorry Lucy! I’m sorry to Mike too! You were right, we’re a mismatch! I just don’t want to be lonely!” Lucy hugged Michelle. He made it brief.
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