proceeded to inquire which was the individual bedstead that Mr Roker

had so flatteringly described as an out-and-outer to sleep in.

That's it,' replied Mr Roker, pointing to a very rusty one in a corner. 'It

would make any one go to sleep, that bedstead would, whether they

wanted to or not.'

I should think,' said Sam, eyeing the piece of furniture in question

with a look of excessive disgust - 'I should think poppies was nothing

to it.'

Nothing at all,' said Mr Roker.

And I s'pose,' said Sam, with a sidelong glance at his master, as if to

see whether there were any symptoms of his determination being

shaken by what passed, 'I s'pose the other gen'l'men as sleeps here

ARE gen'l'men.'

Nothing but it,' said Mr Roker. 'One of 'em takes his twelve pints of

ale a day, and never leaves off smoking even at his meals.'

He must be a first-rater,' said Sam.

A1,' replied Mr Roker.

Nothing daunted, even by this intelligence, Mr Pickwick smilingly

announced his determination to test the powers of the narcotic

bedstead for that night; and Mr Roker, after informing him that he

could retire to rest at whatever hour he thought proper, without any

further notice or formality, walked off, leaving him standing with Sam

in the gallery.

It was getting dark; that is to say, a few gas jets were kindled in this

place which was never light, by way of compliment to the evening,

which had set in outside. As it was rather warm, some of the tenants

of the numerous little rooms which opened into the gallery on either

hand, had set their doors ajar. Mr Pickwick peeped into them as he

passed along, with great curiosity and interest. Here, four or five great

hulking fellows, just visible through a cloud of tobacco smoke, were

engaged in noisy and riotous conversation over half-emptied pots of

beer, or playing at all-fours with a very greasy pack of cards. In the

adjoining room, some solitary tenant might be seen poring, by the

light of a feeble tallow candle, over a bundle of soiled and tattered

papers, yellow with dust and dropping to pieces from age, writing, for

the hundredth time, some lengthened statement of his grievances, for

the perusal of some great man whose eyes it would never reach, or

whose heart it would never touch. In a third, a man, with his wife and

a whole crowd of children, might be seen making up a scanty bed on

The Pickwick Papers