hundreds of the conventional works of Art to which I have
ventured to allude. To those who doubt me, I can only declare
that what I have here written is undisguised and absolute truth.
Let me add that daily observation of all classes of criminals,
extending over many years, has considerably diminished my faith
in physiognomy as a safe guide to the discovery of character.
Nervous trepidation looks like guilt. Guilt, firmly sustained by
insensibility, looks like innocence. One of the vilest wretches
ever placed under my charge won the sympathies (while he was
waiting for his trial) of every person who saw him, including
even the persons employed in the prison. Only the other day,
ladies and gentlemen coming to visit me passed a body of men at
work on the road. Judges of physiognomy among them were horrified
at the criminal atrocity betrayed in every face that they
noticed. They condoled with me on the near neighborhood of so
many convicts to my official place of residence. I looked out of
the window and saw a group of honest laborers (whose only crime
was poverty) employed by the parish!

Having instructed the female warder to leave the room--but
to take care that she waited within call--I looked again at
the Minister.

Confronted by the serious responsibility that he had undertaken,
he justified what he had said to me. Still pale, still
distressed, he was now nevertheless master of himself. I turned
to the door to leave him alone with the Prisoner. She called me
back.

"Before this gentleman tries to convert me," she said, "I want