Yes:—well might Frank Curtis feel the horrors—callous and indifferent as the young man naturally was—on beholding the Poor-Side. The ground-floor rooms were even at mid-day in a state of twilight, the colossal wall being only a few feet distant:—the windows were blackened with dirt; and from the upper ones hung a few rags—the miserable duds of the miserable, miserable inmates. Half-starved, pale, and emaciated women—the wives or daughters of those poor prisoners—were loitering at the doorways,—some with children in their arms—children, Oh! so wan and wasted—so sickly and so death-like—that it must have made their parents' hearts bleed to feel how light they were, and how famine-struck they seemed! And yet those little, starving children had their innocent winning ways, as well as the offspring of the rich; and they threw their skeleton arms around their mother's necks—and their lips sent forth those infantile sounds so sweet to mothers' ears;—but still the little beings seemed to be pining rapidly away through actual want and in the prison atmosphere! "God help the poor," we said ere now: but, Oh! with tearful eyes and beating heart do we exclaim—"God help the children of the poor!"
Frank Curtis and the captain, having now completed their walk round the prison, entered the parlour of the Coffee-house, where an excellent breakfast awaited them, and to which they did ample justice.
The repast being disposed of, Captain O'Blunderbuss took a temporary leave of Frank Curtis, it being arranged that the gallant officer should proceed to Baker Street in order to induce the men in possession, either by means of bribes or menaces, to allow Mrs. Curtis to remove as many valuables from the house as possible; and, this notable aim being achieved, the captain was to pay his respects to Sir Christopher Blunt.
Frank Curtis, being now temporarily thrown upon his own resources for amusement, strolled out upon the parade, and was gazing at the racquet-players, when Mr. Prout accosted him.
"Good morning, sir. Have you taken a survey of the Bench yet?" said the Chancery prisoner.
"I have been round the building, and seen all that's worth seeing, I believe," replied Curtis. "But the Poor-Side appears to be a wretched place."
"Wretched!" cried Prout, in a bitter tone: "ah! you may well make that observation, sir! But if my affairs do not end in a speedy settlement, I shall have to move to that quarter myself."
"How is that?" enquired Frank.
"Do you not know—have you not yet learned that you must pay even to have a room in this prison—a place to which you do not come of your own accord?" said Prout. "A shilling a week is the room-rent; and he who cannot pay it, must go over to the Poor-Side. This is English justice, Mr. Curtis! You must pay to live in a prison!"
"It seems to me monstrously unfair——"