ny of them were
smoking, and the coarser sort swore and talked loud. Those who had once
been in better circumstances sat and moped, or spoke in lower tones, or
cooked their victuals with indifference to all else around, or ate them
in abstracted silence; while not a few laid their heads and arms on the
tables, and apparently slept. For sleeping in earnest there were rooms
overhead containing many narrow beds with scant and coarse covering,
which, however, the law compelled to be clean. One of the rooms
contained seventy such beds.

Little notice was taken of the west-end visitors as they passed up the
room, though some dark scowls of hatred were cast after them, and a few
glanced at them with indifference. It was otherwise in regard to
Seaward. He received many a "good-night, sir," as he passed, and a
kindly nod greeted him here and there from men who at first looked as if
kindness had been utterly eradicated from their systems.

One of those whom we have described as resting their heads and arms on
the tables, looked hastily up, on hearing the visitors' voices, with an
expression of mingled surprise and alarm. It was Sammy Twitter, with
hands and visage filthy, hair dishevelled, eyes bloodshot, cheeks
hollow, and garments beyond description disreputable. He seemed the
very embodiment of woe and degradation. On seeing his old friend
Welland he quickly laid his head down again and remained motionless.

Welland had not observed him.

"You would scarcely believe it, sir," said the missionary, in a low
tone; "nearly all classes of society are occasionally represented here.
You will sometimes find merchants, lawyers, doctors, military men, and
even clergymen, who have fallen step by step, chiefly in consequence of
that subtle demon drink, until the common lodging-house is their only
home."

"Heaven help me!" said Sir Richard; "my friend Brisbane has often told
me of this, but I have never quite believed it--certainly never realised
it--until to-night. And even now I can hardly believe it. I see no one
here who seems as if he ever had belonged to the classes you name."

"Do you see the old man in the last box in the room, on the left-hand
side, sitting alone?" asked Seaward, turning his back to the spot
indicated.

"Yes."

"Well, that is a clergyman. I know him well. You would never guess it
from his wretched clothing, but you might readily believe it if you were
to speak to him."

"That I will not do,