And, for why?
Because, when they're in prison, all their indulgences, and half their hopes of liberty, depend on how far they can manage to humbug the chaplain with false piety.

And so, when they are free again, they hate him worse than any man.

I am an old prisoner myself, and I know it." "Have you been a prisoner, then ?" said Frank, surprised.
"I was transported, sir, for poaching." "That all!" said Frank.

"Then, you were the victim of a villanous old law.

Do you know," he added, laughing, "that I rather believe I have earned transportation myself?
I have a horrible schoolboy recollection of a hare who would squeak in my pocket, and of a keeper passing within ten yards of where I lay hidden.