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What befell Mr. Pickwick when he got into the Fleet; what Prisoners he saw there; and how he passed

           Pickwicksmilinglyannouncedhisdeterminationtotestthepowersofthenarcoticbedsteadforthatnight;andMr.Roker,afterinforminghimthathecouldretiretorestatwhateverhourhethoughtproper,withoutanyfurthernoticeorformality,walkedoff,leavinghimstandingwithSaminthegallery.

           Itwasgettingdark;thatistosay,afewgasjetswerekindledinthisplacewhichwasneverlight,bywayofcomplimenttotheevening,whichhadsetinoutside.Asitwasratherwarm,someofthetenantsofthenumerouslittleroomswhichopenedintothegalleryoneitherhand,hadsettheirdoorsajar.Mr.Pickwickpeepedintothemashepassedalong,withgreatcuriosityandinterest.Here,fourorfivegreathulkingfellows,justvisiblethroughacloudoftobaccosmoke,wereengagedinnoisyandriotousconversationoverhalf-emptiedpotsofbeer,orplayingatall-fourswithaverygreasypackofcards.Intheadjoiningroom,somesolitarytenantmightbeseenporing,bythelightofafeebletallowcandle,overabundleofsoiledandtatteredpapers,yellowwithdustanddroppingtopiecesfromage,writing,forthehundredthtime,somelengthenedstatementofhisgrievances,fortheperusalofsomegreatmanwhoseeyesitwouldneverreach,orwhoseheartitwouldnevertouch.Inathird,aman,withhiswifeandawholecrowdofchildren,mightbeseenmakingupascantybedontheground,oruponafewchairs,fortheyoungeronestopassthenightin.

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Roboto Lora
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