ore it got quite cold. Having said
thus much, he suddenly retired behind his newspaper, and spoke no word
more.

In a few minutes the landlady appeared, looking very thin and care-worn,
and clad in mourning weeds. She smiled sadly upon us; and desired to
know how we liked corned beef? We acknowledged a preference for fresh
meat, especially in large market towns like Liskeard, where butchers'
shops abounded. The landlady was willing to see what she could get; and
in the meantime, begged to be allowed to show us into a private room.
She succeeded in incarcerating us in the most thoroughly private room
that could be found out of a model prison. It was situated far away at
the back of the house, and looked out upon a very small yard entirely
circumscribed by empty stables. The one little window was shut down
tight, and we were desired not to open it, for fear of a smell from
these stables. The ornaments of the place consisted of hymn-books,
spelling-books, and a china statue of Napoleon in a light green
waistcoat and a sky-blue coat. There was not even a fly in the room to
intrude on us in our privacy; there were no cocks and hens in the yard
to cackle on us in our privacy; nobody walked past the outer passage, or
made any noise in any part of the house, to startle us in our privacy;
and a steady rain was falling propitiously to keep us in our privacy. We
dined in our retired situation on some rugged lumps of broiled flesh,
which the landlady called chops, and the servant steaks. We broke out of
prison after dinner, and roamed the streets. We returned to solitary
confinement in the evening, and were instantly conducted to another
cell.

This second private apartment appeared to be about forty feet long; six
immense wooden tables, painted of a ghastly yellow colour, were ranged
down it side by side. Nothing was placed on any of them--they looked
like dissecting-tables waiting for "subjects." There was yet another and
a seventh table--a round one, half lost in a corner, to which we
retreated for refuge--it was covered with crape and bombazine, half made
up into mourning garments proper to the first and intensest stage of
grief. The servant brought us one small candle to cheer the scene; and
desired to be informed whether we wanted _two_ sheets apiece to our
beds, or whether we could do with a sheet at top and a blanket at
bottom, as other people did? This question cowed us at once into gloomy
submission to our fate. We just