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The Rev. Stewart Headlam explains, in the current number of his monthly paper, the Church Reformer, why he went bail for Oscar Wilde. He says:—"I became bail for Mr. Oscar Wilde on public grounds. I felt that the action of a large section of the press, of the theatrical managers at whose houses his plays were running, and of his publishers, was calculated to prejudice his case before his trial had even begun. I was a surety not for his character, but for his appearance in court to stand his trial. I had very little personal knowledge of him at the time. I think I had only met him twice, but my confidence in his honour and manliness has been fully justified by the fact (if rumour be correct, withstanding strong inducements to the contrary) that he stayed in England and faced his trial."

In conclusion, Mr. Headlam says: "Now that the trial is over, and Mr. Wilde has been convicted and sentenced, I still feel that I was absolutely right in the course I took, and I hope that, after he has gone through his sentence, Mr. Wilde may be able, with the help of his friends, to do good work in his fresh life."

The British Medical Journal says many rumours have been spread abroad in regard to the health and treatment of Oscar Wilde, now confined in Pentonville prison. They are, however, absolutely without foundation. Notwithstanding all that has been said it is a fact that Oscar Wilde is in good health, and is not in the Infirmary.

When once the prison door closes on a prison he is cut off from the world, and nothing that can be said can either aggravate or lighten his punishment. It is otherwise, however, in regard to his perfectly innocent relatives. For three months they are absolutely debarred from all communication with him. If they write their letters are returned, and he is not allowed to send a message or word of any sort.

When the doctor had "passed" Wilde (says the Morning) he was given his first dose of prison medicine. This consisted of a certain quantity of bromide of potassium, which is administered to all prisoners at stipulated intervals. For three days Wilde took his medicine without complaint, and performed his allotted task on the tread-mill. At the end of this period, however, the changed conditions of life began to tell upon him, and he was suddenly taken ill.

The doctor ordered him to be placed on second-class work. He gets up at six in the morning, and proceeds to clean and wash out his cell. At seven, breakfast, consisting of cocoa and bread, is served. After the meal the prisoner is given an hour’s exercise, and then returns to his cell to pick oakum until 12 o’clock. Then dinner, consisting sometimes of bacon and beans, sometimes of soup, and one day a week of cold meat, is brought to him. At half-past 12 he resumes the work of oakum-picking, and continues thus engaged until six o’clock, when tea is served. At seven o’clock he goes to bed.

This is now the daily routine of Wilde’s life. He is compelled to pick a certain quantity of oakum per day, is not allowed to converse with anyone, and, with the exception of his hour’s exercise, is kept in solitary confinement in his cell.

The officials say Wilde is going on very well. In the event of serious illness a communication would be sent at once to his friends.

During the past few days unauthorized reports have here been put in circulation regarding the health and mental condition of Oscar Wilde since the imprisonment in Pentonville Gaol. One report went so far as to state that Wilde has been placed in a padded room on account of his having developed violent insanity from inquiries made an official quarters by a reporter on Thursday it appears that the facts of the case are as follows:—-

On the Monday morning following his convictions Wilde was conveyed in Pentonville, and, after passing through various preliminary ordeals, was handed over to the prison doctor for examination. This medical inspection is rather a long process in the case of persons condemned to hard labour. The doctor was apparently satisfied with the condition of Wilde, and pass him as "fit" for first class hard labour – which, means six hours on the treadmill daily for the first month and the performance of other arduous duties.

When the doctor had "passed" Wilde he was given his first dose of prison medicine this consisted of a certain quantity of bromide of potassium which is administered to all prisoners at stipulated intervals. In the case of a new prisoner, such as Wilde, this drug is given more frequently than to those who have served sometime. For three days Wilde took his medicine without complaint and performed his allotted task on the treadmill. At the end of this period, however, the changed conditions of life began to tell upon him, and he was suddenly taken ill. His illness commenced on the fourth day after his admittance. It was an attack of diarrhoea. This was followed by mental prostration and melancholy. For a time little was thought of his condition, as it was put down to what is known as "a present head" – a complaint most new prisoners suffer from owing to the preliminary dose of bromide of potassium. This drug is said to produce in some people extreme melancholia. As soon as Wilde’s case was diagnosed the doctor discontinued the use of the drug, but his condition did not improve, And he was thought to be in such a bad state that he was removed to the infirmary, but he was placed in a bed surrounded by screens, and watched night and day. At the end of two days the diarrhoea stopped, and as a marked improvement was noticed in his state he was taken back to his cell.

The melancholia, however, continued. The doctor again examined him, and ordered him to be placed on second-class work. He gets up at six in the morning, and proceeds to clean and wash out his cell. At seven, breakfast, consisting of cocoa and bread, is served. After the meal the prisoner is given an hours exercise then returns to his cell to pick oakum until twelve o’clock then dinner, consisting sometimes of bacon and beans, sometimes of soup, and one day a week of cold meat, is brought to him. At half-past-twelve, he resumes the work of oakum picking, and continues thus engaged until six o’clock, when he is served. At seven o’clock he goes to bed.

This is the daily routine of Wilde’s life. He is compelled to pick a certain quantity of oakham per day, is not allowed to converse with anyone, and, with the exception of his hours exercise, is kept in solitary confinement in his cell. He is still suffering from a form of depression, but is said to be improving daily although for a time has a mental state give the present officials – who have treated him with the greatest kindness and consideration – some anxiety. With the exception of the melancholia, he has enjoyed fairly good health since the removal to Pentonville.

The rumour that Oscar Wilde was suffering severely from the rigour of his present treatment and that his mental condition was such as to cause great anxiety, induced a reporter to visit Pentonville and ask the governor if the report was true, Mr. Manning, the governor, said, "none whatever. The whole thing is a cruel fabrication – cruel to the friends of the prisoner and everybody else concerned."

"Is there anything else that you care to add to that statement?" queried the reporter.

"Only this that both the prisoners are going on very satisfactorily. We have had no trouble whatsoever with them. I do not know who is responsible for the rumours that have got about but they have put me under a lot of inconvenience – answering letters and inquiries, and so forth. I need scarcely assure you that I am as anxious as anybody can be for the health of the prisoners."

"Is Wilde on the treadmill?"

"I am afraid," Mr. Manning replied, "that I cannot answer that question. But you may be perfectly certain that no prisoner is put to work here until he has been thoroughly examined and permitted fit for it by the medical staff."

A FOREIGNER’S VIEW.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE REYNOLDS’S NEWSPAPER.

SIR,-—Allow me, a foreigner--an Italian--who living for sometime in England, had learned not only to have the highest esteem, but also – which is, perhaps more -- to love this great country and its amiable inhabitants, to say a word about the much-ventilated Wilde case:

A trial such as the one that poor man had to go through is simply unheard of, and cannot be understood by any foreigner--certainly not by an Italian. In my country the "crime" which Mr. O. Wilde is supposed to have committed is unknown as such.

The trial itself almost reminded us of the famous trials, of the Spanish Inquisition. Who gave the evidence against Wilde? The very people with whom he had committed the unlawful action—-nay, more than that, people who had committed these actions still with others—-people who have taken money for that action, accepted presents, afterwards robbed gentleman’s pocketbooks, and at last appear at court to bear witness against their benefactors, who always have been kind to them. Is it compatible with the dignity of the Crown to bring such witnesses into the box? I called that immoral and indecent!

Mr. O. Wilde is now in prison, but I hope the day will come when the doors will open for him and he will come out of it. Tasso and Sylvie Peilico, though imprisoned for many years, are still great ornaments of mankind, and honoured and venerated by all the world. Then this much-injured man should come to sunny Italy and write in a country more favourable to him his novels and pieces, full of brilliance and wit, and send them into the world. Then his own country may show its true liberalism and accept them with his name on the frontispiece,—-Your obedient servant,

Naples. ONLY A FOREIGNER.

"Justice" demands that the public prosecutors should take proceedings against the blackmailing witnesses who appeared at Oscar Wilde‘s trial. Otherwise he asserts that the state will have leagued itself with dishonesty, and no man’s reputation will be safe.

Mr. O. Tomlinson writes to us from Lee: "The clause of the Criminal Law Amendment Act under which Mr. Oscar Wilde has been convicted was passed to protect certain young people. Now will any decent person have that effrontery to say that such vile black-guards as the persons alleged to be concerned in this case were ever meant to be included or ought to be? This is the question. If Mr. O. Wilde is guilty, then: soon ostracism is the proper punishment."

"A Condoler" says that even admitting Wilde's guilt he can’t see how that can affect his works. What matters, he asks, whether Phidias, who wrought in stone, and Rafael on canvas, were moral or immoral? In Wilde’s case an effort should be made on a Christian duty to enable the unfortunate fellow to retrieve something of his former position, and "A Condoler" proposes that his sympathies should foregather to determine upon a course of action. The Rev. Stewart Hellman has done his share. Why should not the Archbishop of Canterbury represent lives of the great Nazarene, who would have been the first to hold out of hand of sympathy to Wilde, step into the breach? Or, failing that man, so badly and caged socially, some energetic exponent of the "Nonconformist Conscience" might seize the golden opportunity in the name of Christian charity. Also I fear they are too much impregnated with the views of worldliness and conventionality.