was commuted into transportation. Caricaturists, writers, philanthropists, divines—all united in the chorus of condemnation against the bloody enactments which secured such a crop for the gallows. Men, women, girls, lads, and idiots, all served as food for it. Jack Ketch had a merry time of it, while Society looked on well pleased, for the most part. Those appointed to sit in the seat of justice sometimes defended this state of things. One of the worthies of of the “good old times”—Judge Heath—notorious because of his partiality for hanging, is reported to have said: “If you imprison at home, the criminal is soon thrown back upon you hardened in guilt. If you transport you corrupt infant societies, and sow the seeds of atrocious crimes over the habitable globe. There is no regenerating a felon in this life. And, for his own sake, as well as for the sake of Society, I think it better to hang.”
As a caricaturist George Cruikshank entered the field, and waged battle on behalf of the poor wretches who swung at the gallows for passing forged Bank of England notes. He drew a note resembling the genuine one, and entitled it “Bank note, not to be imitated.” A copy of this caricature now lies before us. It bears on its face the representation of a large gallows, from which eleven criminals, three of whom are women, are dangling, dead. In the upper left hand corner, Britannia is represented as surrounded by starving, wailing creatures, and surmounted by a hideous death’s head. Underneath is a rope coiled around the portraits of twelve felons who have suffered; while, running down, to form a border, are fetters arranged in zig-zag fashion. Across the note run these words, “Ad lib., ad lib., I promise to perform during the issue of Bank
