TurningfromtheTemplegateassoonasIhadreadthewarning, ImadethebestofmywaytoFleet-street, , andthechamberlain, lettingmeinathisreadywicket, lightedthecandlenextinorderonhisshelf, , withadespoticmonsterofafour-postbedsteadinit, straddlingoverthewholeplace, puttingoneofhisarbitrarylegsintothefireplaceandanotherintothedoorway, andsqueezingthewretchedlittlewashing-standinquiteaDivinelyRighteousmanner.

AsIhadaskedforanight-light, thechamberlainhadbroughtmein, beforeheleftme, thegoodoldconstitutionalrush-lightofthosevirtuousdays—anobjectliketheghostofawalking-cane, whichinstantlybrokeitsbackifitweretouched, whichnothingcouldeverbelightedat, andwhichwasplacedinsolitaryconfinementatthebottomofahightintower, , andlaytherefootsore, weary, andwretched, , inthegloomanddeathofthenight, westaredatoneanother.

Whatadolefulnight! Howanxious, howdismal, howlong! Therewasaninhospitablesmellintheroom, ofcoldsootandhotdust; and, asIlookedupintothecornersofthetesterovermyhead, Ithoughtwhatanumberofbluebottlefliesfromthebutchers’, andearwigsfromthemarket, andgrubsfromthecountry, mustbeholdingonupthere, , andthenIfanciedthatIfeltlightfallsonmyface—adisagreeableturnofthought, , thoseextraordinaryvoiceswithwhichsilenceteems, , thefireplacesighed, thelittlewashing-standticked, , theeyesonthewallacquiredanewexpression, andineveryoneofthosestaringroundsIsawwritten, DON’TGOHOME.