There,' said Mr Roker, pausing for breath when they reached another

gallery of the same dimensions as the one below, 'this is the coffee-

room flight; the one above's the third, and the one above that's the

top; and the room where you're a-going to sleep to-night is the

warden's room, and it's this way - come on.' Having said all this in a

breath, Mr Roker mounted another flight of stairs with Mr Pickwick

and Sam Weller following at his heels.

These staircases received light from sundry windows placed at some

little distance above the floor, and looking into a gravelled area

bounded by a high brick wall, with iron CHEVAUX-DE-FRISE at the

top. This area, it appeared from Mr Roker's statement, was the racket-

ground; and it further appeared, on the testimony of the same

gentleman, that there was a smaller area in that portion of the prison

which was nearest Farringdon Street, denominated and called 'the

Painted Ground,' from the fact of its walls having once displayed the

semblance of various men- of-war in full sail, and other artistical

effects achieved in bygone times by some imprisoned draughtsman in

his leisure hours.

Having communicated this piece of information, apparently more for

the purpose of discharging his bosom of an important fact, than with

any specific view of enlightening Mr Pickwick, the guide, having at

length reached another gallery, led the way into a small passage at the

extreme end, opened a door, and disclosed an apartment of an

appearance by no means inviting, containing eight or nine iron

bedsteads.

There,' said Mr Roker, holding the door open, and looking

triumphantly round at Mr Pickwick, 'there's a room!'

Mr Pickwick's face, however, betokened such a very trifling portion of

satisfaction at the appearance of his lodging, that Mr Roker looked, for

a reciprocity of feeling, into the countenance of Samuel Weller, who,

until now, had observed a dignified silence. 'There's a room, young

man,' observed Mr Roker.

'I see it,' replied Sam, with a placid nod of the head.

You wouldn't think to find such a room as this in the Farringdon

Hotel, would you?' said Mr Roker, with a complacent smile.

To this Mr Weller replied with an easy and unstudied closing of one

eye; which might be considered to mean, either that he would have

thought it, or that he would not have thought it, or that he had never

thought anything at all about it, as the observer's imagination

suggested. Having executed this feat, and reopened his eye, Mr Weller

The Pickwick Papers