ceremony. I made my application in all humility, and 

 after a delay of nearly a quarter of an hour (almost as if 

 I had been an unexpected Trustee), I was ushered down 

 by Mr. E. A. Roy (Assistant-Turnkey). As we approached 

 the dungeons, a steam pipe, which had most unfortunately 

 and conveniently broken, flooded the sliced compartments 

 with an odour not familiar to Mr. E. A. Roy's nose. 

 Because he remarked upon it, I knew it could not be usual, 

 and therefore awaited the normal stenches further on, 

 granting the steam as an extra in honour of my visit. The 

 dungeons themselves I found decorated with what I first 

 thought to be little flags, in compliment to the first mortal 

 who, being neither trustee nor official, was allowed to visit 

 the place ; but these afterwards turned out to be little 

 weathercocks to show which way the particular draught 

 of the moment happened to be blowing — whether in the 

 direction of rheumatism, suffocation, or toothache. 

 Whichever way it came it bore the scent of rotting 

 morocco and an indescribable odour, familiar in foreign 

 barracks. 



I spoke to one over-worked assistant, offering him a fair 

 and not encouraging assessment of his life chances, based 

 on a calculation of the length of his service, and the 

 direction of the weathercock under which he sat. A 

 snub from Mr. Roy eventually prevented the unfortunate 

 man from giving me any intelligible answer. But I 

 learnt his name ; he is one of Dr. Andrew Clark's two 

 patients. Poor young man ! he looks pale and yellow 

 -and ruined in health ! I was shown by the assistant- 

 turnkey two specimen old gentlemen attendants, kept in 

 a separate slice of the Den, apparently to demonstrate 

 its invigorating powers by the fact that they either 

 eat or chew the cud in it. Mr. Roy drew my attention to 

 this astounding fact ; but, after touching one of the men 



