Accordingly, the clock had scarcely struck eleven, and Frank Curtis was already beginning to get uneasy, when the Captain's thundering knock at the front door in Baker Street, proclaimed his return; and in a few moments the young gentleman was made acquainted with the success experienced by his friend.

"And now, be the holy poker-r! we'll make a night of it," said the Captain, when, the front-door having been duly secured, the two worthies were once more seated in the dining-room: "and it's myself that'll tell ye stories and sing ye rale Irish songs to keep ye awake, my boy."

And a night they did make of it, heaven knows!—and tremendous inroads were effected upon the supply of gin then in the "garrison," as the Captain now termed the house. Such lies, too, as the Captain and Frank Curtis told each other! until the latter gentleman began to entertain the pleasing idea that the room was spinning round, and that there were four candles on the table instead of two. The gallant officer, on the other hand, carried his liquor like a man who was inaccessible to its inebriating fumes; and when Curtis fell dead drunk upon the carpet, the Captain considerately picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder as if he was a sack of potatoes, and thus transported him to the door of his wife's bed-room, at which he deposited the senseless gentleman, having intimated in stentorian tones that Mrs. Curtis would do well to rise and look to her husband.

The Captain then went down stairs again, finished the bottle last opened, and, throwing himself on a sofa, fell into a sound sleep.

CHAPTER LXXVI.
TIM THE SNAMMER AND JOSH PEDLER OUT ON
BUSINESS.

He who delights in wandering amongst the mazes of this mighty city of London,—this wilderness of brick and mortar,—and who can view, with the eye of a philosopher or a moralizer, the various phases in which the metropolis is to be considered, may find ample food for reflection, and much changing interest of scene, if he post himself at that point in the Borough of Southwark, called Newington Butts.

From this point diverge Blackman Street, the Newington Road, the Borough Road, and Horsemonger Lane.

Blackman Street and the Newington Road constitute the great thoroughfare between London Bridge and the Elephant and Castle tavern; and incalculable are the multitudes—innumerable are the vehicles, which pass along the busy way,—oh! so busy, because the love of money and the love of pleasure cause all those comings and goings,—those hurryings hither and thither,—those departures, and those returns!

What a tremendous conflict of interests,—what a wondrous striving to accomplish objects in view,—what an energy—what an activity—what an unwearied industry, are denoted by a great thoroughfare like this! Nor less does that bustle speak of recreation and enjoyment—parties of pleasure to end in dissipation—amusement, diversion, and holiday, too often to be dearly paid for thereafter!

Close by Newington Butts you behold a portion of the wall of the Bench Prison, with its chevaux de frise, denoting rather the criminal prison than a place of confinement for unfortunate persons. What a horrible cruelty it is to incarcerate men who are unable to liquidate their liabilities—as if such immurement would place within their reach the philosopher's stone. Where one dishonest debtor finds his way thither, a dozen human beings who are enclosed within that gloomy wall, would gladly—willingly, acquit themselves of their responsibilities if they had the means. And shall the law be so framed that, in order to punish one, it must cruelly oppress twelve individuals? Is such a principle consistent with common sense, justice, or civilisation? Many and many a heart has been broken within those walls: many and many a fine spirit has been crushed down to the very dust; and the man who went into that prison with honourable feelings and generous sympathies, has gone forth prepared to play the part of a sneaking swindler. For a creditor to lock his debtor up in prison, is the same as if a master took away the tools from a mechanic and said, "Now do your work as usual." The Legislature does not understand this. It allows an expensive process to take place, so that the debtor who cannot originally pay 50l., for instance, has his liabilities immediately increased to 60l.: then, when responding negatively to the demand for this larger sum, he is taken away from the avocations by pursuing which he might obtain the means to settle with his creditor, and is thrown into prison. The routine is precisely this:—If a person cannot pay a debt, you increase it for him: and, having increased it, you tie his hands so that he shall have no chance of paying it at all! Merciful heavens! is this common sense?[[35]]