CHAPTER II.
"Look round thee, young Astolpho; here's the place Which men (for being poor) are sent to starve in;-- Rude remedy, I trow, for sore disease.
Within these walls, stifled by damp and stench, Doth Hope's fair torch expire, and at the snuff, Ere yet 'tis quite extinct, rude, wild, and wayward, The desperate revelries of fell Despair, Kindling their hell-born cressets, light to deeds That the poor Captive would have died ere practised, Till bondage sunk his soul to his condition." The Prison .-- Act I.Scene III.
TRAVERSING the streets, without having in view any particular object, other than the observance of Real Life in London, such as might occur from fortuitous incident; our two perambulators skirted the Metropolis one fine morning, till finding themselves in the vicinity of Tothill-fields Bridewell, a place of confinement to which the Magistrates of Westminster provisionally commit those who are supposed to be guilty of crimes.

Ingress was without much difficulty obtained, and the two friends proceeded to a survey of human nature in its most degraded state, where, amidst the consciousness of infamy and the miseries of privation, apathy seemed the predominant feeling with these outcasts of society, and reflection on the past, or anticipation of the future, was absorbed in the vacuum of insensibility.

Reckless of his destiny, here the manacled felon wore, with his gyves, the semblance of the most perfect indifference; and the seriousness of useful retrospection was lost in the levity of frivolous amusement.

Apart from the other prisoners was seated a recluse, whose appearance excited the attention of the two visitants; a deep cloud of dejection overshadowed his features, and he seemed studiously to keep aloof from the obstreperous revelry of his fellow-captives.

There was in his manner a something inducing a feeling of commiseration which could not be extended to his callous ~21~~ companions in adversity.