in the
city. Robinson's money was all locked up. Thompson expected to be locked
up himself. Jackson was brief, but explicit: he said he "would rather
not."

My friend brought me a carpet-bag, with what clothes I wanted in it. He
advised me, more over, to go to Whitecross-street at once, for a sojourn
at Mr. Blowman's domicile would cost me something like a guinea per diem.
So, summoning Mr. Aminadab, who had obligingly waited to see if I could
raise the money or not, I announced my intention of being conveyed to jail
at once. I paid half-a-guinea for the accommodation I had had at Mr.
Blowman's; I made a pecuniary acknowledgment of Mr. Aminadab's politeness;
and I did not fail to remember the old man in the white halter and the
spirituous mantle. Then, when I had also remembered a red-headed little
Jew boy, who acted as Cerberus to this Hades, and appeared to be
continually washing his hands (though they never seemed one whit the
cleaner for the operation), another cab was called, and off I went to
Whitecross-street, with a heart considerably heavier than a paving stone.

I had already been three hours in captivity, and it was getting on for
eight o'clock. The cab was proceeding along Holborn, and I thought,
involuntarily, of Mr. Samuel Hall, black and grimy, making his progress
through the same thoroughfares, by the Oxford Road, and so on to Tyburn,
bowing to the crowd, and cursing the Ordinary. The foot-pavement on either
side was thronged with people at their Christmas marketing, or, at least,
on some Christmas business--so it seemed to me. Goose Clubs were being held
at the public houses--sweeps for sucking-pigs, plum-puddings, and bottles
of gin. Some ladies and gentlemen had begun their Christmas rather too
early, and were meandering unsteadily over the flag-stones. Fiddlers were
in great request, being sought for in small beershops, and borne off
bodily from bars, to assist at Christmas Eve merry-makings. An immense
deal of hand-shaking was going on, and I was very much afraid, a good deal
more "standing" than was consistent with the strict rules of temperance.
Every body kept saying that it was "only once a year," and made that an
apology (so prone are mankind to the use of trivial excuses!) for their
sins against Father Mathew. Loud laughter rang through the frosty air.
Pleasant jokes, innocent "chaff," passed; grocers' young men toiled
lustily, wiping their hot faces ever and anon; butchers took no rest;
pri