e turnkey, openin' the gate wery slow and sulky, "it's my 'pinion as
you've got into bad company o' late, which I'm wery sorry to see. Now,
I don't wish to do nothing harsh," he says, "but if you can't confine
yourself to steady circles, and find your vay back at reg'lar hours,
as sure as you're a-standin' there, I'll shut you out altogether!" The
little man was seized vith a wiolent fit o' tremblin', and never vent
outside the prison walls artervards!'

As Sam concluded, Mr. Pickwick slowly retraced his steps downstairs.
After a few thoughtful turns in the Painted Ground, which, as it was now
dark, was nearly deserted, he intimated to Mr. Weller that he thought
it high time for him to withdraw for the night; requesting him to seek
a bed in some adjacent public-house, and return early in the morning,
to make arrangements for the removal of his master's wardrobe from the
George and Vulture. This request Mr. Samuel Weller prepared to obey,
with as good a grace as he could assume, but with a very considerable
show of reluctance nevertheless. He even went so far as to essay sundry
ineffectual hints regarding the expediency of stretching himself on the
gravel for that night; but finding Mr. Pickwick obstinately deaf to any
such suggestions, finally withdrew.

There is no disguising the fact that Mr. Pickwick felt very low-spirited
and uncomfortable--not for lack of society, for the prison was very
full, and a bottle of wine would at once have purchased the utmost
good-fellowship of a few choice spirits, without any more formal
ceremony of introduction; but he was alone in the coarse, vulgar crowd,
and felt the depression of spirits and sinking of heart, naturally
consequent on the reflection that he was cooped and caged up, without
a prospect of liberation. As to the idea of releasing himself by
ministering to the sharpness of Dodson & Fogg, it never for an instant
entered his thoughts.

In this frame of mind he turned again into the coffee-room gallery, and
walked slowly to and fro. The place was intolerably dirty, and the smell
of tobacco smoke perfectly suffocating. There was a perpetual slamming
and banging of doors as the people went in and out; and the noise of
their voices and footsteps echoed and re-echoed through the passages
constantly. A young woman, with a child in her arms, who seemed scarcely
able to crawl, from emaciation and misery, was walking up and down the
passage in conversation with her husband, who h