and he certainly seemed to have wanted for
nothing during his sojourn in the metropolis
— amounted to something over four pounds.
It is true that he dined out three days of the
seven, but he had a friend to dinner on two
of the evenings he stayed at home. And I
rather believe that the quality of the wine, as
well as of the accommodation, at the
International Hotel, is somewhat superior to that
at Bream's-buildings.

About an hour or so after I announced my
determination of moving to the street of the
White Cross, old One-eye—the manager, butler,
porter, waiter, and superintendent of the
sponging-house—ordered a hansom, and off we
drove together to the great place of confinement
for debtors. Let me here pay a passing
tribute to this guardian of the establishment
in Bream's-buildings. Cyclops was not a bad
fellow, and however infamous is the system
which he administered, the fault is not his.
Arrived at the prison gate, I paid the cabman,
and offered One-eye his cab-fare back and a
small gratuity. But he would take neither.

"Don't you think of me," said he; "you'll
want all you have, to keep yourself and that
poor young missis of yourn. When you're up
in the world again, I'll come and see you, and
take anything you like to offer me."

I was handed over as if I had been a felon
to the warder at the gate. The ironclad doors,
the barred gates — the one door being shut
before another was opened — the cold bare walls,
and the continual sight of keys, were dreadfully
like Newgate. Not that the officials were
unkind or even uncivil — far from it. Here also
it is the system, and not those who are obliged
to administer that system, that I find fault with.
From the moment you enter the place until you
leave it, a series of fiddle-faddling contemptible
rules serving no other end than that of annoying
the prisoners, are felt at every turn. When I
first went to that place of detention on civil
process — which ought to be a place of detention
and nothing more—I had been ordered
by the doctor to take a teaspoonful of tonic
medicine three times a day. Of this I had a
small bottle in my carpet-bag, but it was
"against orders" to allow anything in the shape
of liquid to pass the gate without the prison
doctor's order, and the doctor had made his
round that day, and would not be back until noon
on the day following. I had therefore to go
twenty-four hours without my medicine. Upon
being shown up to the receiving-ward, I found
I was just in time for dinner; but my beverage
at the meal had to be water. Every prisoner
is allowed two pints of beer, or a pint of wine—
provided he pays for it — per day, but he must
have it brought in before one P.M., or he must
go without until next day. Every prisoner
is allowed to see, in a vile low pot-house-
looking room below, two visitors a day, and no
more. If three come to see him, the third is
refused admittance, unless some friendly fellow-
prisoner, without any friends of his own, takes
the visitor on his own list. On Sunday no
visitors whatever are admitted. In my case,
as in that of hundreds of other prisoners, these
rules about visitors proved ruinous. It was
requisite to have friends who could see my
creditors, talk them over, and either bring them
individually to see me, or come to inform
me what was doing. The only persons who
were interested in serving me were my wife, her
father, and her brother. The former could
hardly come to see me without some escort,
for a viler set than some of the visitors, or a
viler neighbourhood than this detestable prison
is situated in, it would be difficult to imagine.
Thus, when my wife came to see me, my list of
visitors for the day was filled up at once, for
she was obliged to bring some one with her.
My brother-in-law was a clerk in an accountant's
office. He was very active in getting my
creditors to sign a paper releasing me from the
detainers, on condition that I assigned over to
two of their number a certain amount of my
salary for the benefit of all. If he could
have seen me whenever he liked, and brought
one or two of my creditors with him, the
whole affair could have been quickly arranged.
If he could have only had a couple of evenings
or a Sunday afternoon to talk over matters,
go over accounts, and bring three or four of
my chief creditors, all would have been well.
As it was, day after day passed over and
nothing could be done. On Sunday, prisoners
might read their sporting newspapers; they
might lounge, "loaf," grumble, swear, and
learn from the sharpers and swindlers among
them lessons in rascality of which they had
never before had the least idea; but to see their
wives, their children, their friends or relatives,
or to make such arrangements as their means
would allow, No.

Al'ter a fortnight in Whitecross-street my
employers began to suspect the truth. Their
solicitor made inquiries, and making the worst
of my story, I received a letter from the firm,
saying that Grumston, Foxley, and Grumston
had no further need of my services. My
brother-in-law called at their place of business,
and tried to remonstrate with old Foxley, the
managing partner; but he would listen to
nothing, and curtly said, that as it was one
of the rules of the house that any one who
got into difficulties should be dismissed, they
had already filled up my place. As I had
now nothing to offer my creditors and no place
to lose, I had but to file my petition as a
bankrupt. I sent for a solicitor, and my papers
were made out.

According to that most extraordinary collection
of anomalies which we call the laws of
bankruptcy, any one who, when a prisoner for
debt, files his petition as a bankrupt, must wait
four full days, and give formal notice to his
detaining creditor, before he can apply for his
discharge from prison. Having fulfilled both
these conditions, I went up — still in custody—
before the Commissioners in Bankruptcy, and
asked to be discharged from prison. The
Commissioner looked over my papers, and his