too, and that's a fact.' The cell was certainly no larger
than the wine-cellar in Devonshire Terrace; at least three feet lower;
and stunk like a common sewer. There was one woman in it then. The
magistrate begins his examinations at five o'clock in the morning; the
watch is set at seven at night; if the prisoners have been given in
charge by an officer, they are not taken out before nine or ten; and in
the interval they remain in these places, where they could no more be
heard to cry for help, in case of a fit or swoon among them, than a
man's voice could be heard after he was coffined up in his grave.

"There is a prison in this same city, and indeed in the same building,
where prisoners for grave offenses await their trial, and to which they
are sent back when under remand. It sometimes happens that a man or
woman will remain here for twelve months, waiting the result of motions
for new trial, and in arrest of judgment, and what not. I went into it
the other day: without any notice or preparation, otherwise I find it
difficult to catch them in their work-a-day aspect. I stood in a long,
high, narrow building, consisting of four galleries one above the other,
with a bridge across each, on which sat a turnkey, sleeping or reading
as the case might be. From the roof, a couple of wind-sails dangled and
drooped, limp and useless; the sky-light being fast closed, and they
only designed for summer use. In the centre of the building was the
eternal stove; and along both sides of every gallery was a long row of
iron doors--looking like furnace-doors, being very small, but black and
cold as if the fires within had gone out.

"A man with keys appears, to show us round. A good-looking fellow, and,
in his way, civil and obliging." (I omit a dialogue of which the
substance has been printed,[52] and give only that which appears for the
first time here.)

"'Suppose a man's here for twelve months. Do you mean to say he never
comes out at that little iron door?'

"'He _may_ walk some, perhaps--not much.'

"'Will you show me a few of them?'

"'Ah! All, if you like.'

"He threw open a door, and I looked in. An old man was sitting on his
bed, reading. The light came in through a small chink, very high up in
the wall. Across the room ran a thick iron pipe to carry off filth; this
was bored for the reception of something like a big funnel in shape; and
over the funnel was a watercock. This was his washing apparatus and
water-close