I. THE CHILD OF THE MARSHALSEA
Some years ago when the laws of England were harsher than they are now, there were debtors' prisons, or big, gloomy jails into which men were put, if they couldn't pay what they owed. This was cruel and unjust, for the prisoner was of course cut off from the chance to earn any more money; and so he might linger there for years or even his whole life long, if some friend did not come to his relief. But otherwise the prisoner was given many liberties not found in ordinary jails. His family might live with him, if they chose, and come and go as they pleased.
One of the largest of these debtors' prisons was called the "Marshalsea." One day a gentleman was brought there who had lost his money in business; but so confident was he of speedily regaining his liberty, that he would not unpack his valise, at first. His name was William Dorrit, an easy-going man who had spent his money freely and paid little attention to his tradesmen's bills. Now that he had fallen upon evil days, he thought that his friends would be glad to help him. But as the days and weeks passed with no prospect of aid, he was persuaded not only to unpack his belongings but also to have his wife and two children brought to live with him.
The two children, Fanny and Edward—commonly called "Tip"—were so young when they were brought to the Marshalsea, that they soon forgot any earlier life, and played very happily with other children in the prison yard. Not long after, a little sister was added to their family. She was christened Amy, but was so tiny that everybody called her "Little Dorrit."
Being born in the prison, Little Dorrit was petted and made much of. Every one there seemed to claim her, and visitors were proudly shown "the Child of the Marshalsea."
The turnkey, who was a kind-hearted man, took an especial interest in her.
"By rights," he remarked, when she was first shown to him, "I ought to be her godfather."
Mr. Dorrit looked at the honest fellow for a moment, and thought that he would suit better than some of their false friends.
"Perhaps you wouldn't object to really being her godfather?" he said.
"Oh, I don't object, if you don't," replied the turnkey.