Life of the last Earl of Stirling

1 8 THE LAST EARL OF STIRLING.
"At length a man entered, whose duty it appeared to
"be to conduct the criminal to his dung-eon. The low
"door furthest from me was suddenly drawn up like a
"portcullis, and the prisoner, followed by two of the
" Turnkeys, all stooping- as low as possible, passed through.
" I just had a glimpse of another man on the inner side
"(the Guardian, I suppose, of the entrance) before the heavy
" door slid down to its place, and was instantly barred and
"bolted.
" In a few minutes more, it was my turn to stoop under
"the door on my left. I was followed by a man, who had
"come in with papers in his hands, and I found myself in
" a sort of gallery extending, I believe, the whole length of
" the debtor's division, and along one or two other sides of it.
" St. Pelagie had, at that period, three distinct divisions
"or quarters, completely separated by double walls from
"each other. One was the debtor's quarter; another the
"State prisoner's quarter; and the third the quarter
" reserved for criminals of every class. Once within the
" place of my confinement I was left to roam at pleasure
" along the dreary galleries, every few yards meeting poor
" debtors, who eyed me with extreme curiosity, and
" exchanged, as I perceived, remarks in a low tone. My
" new and fashionable clothes contrasting disagreeably, no
"doubt, with their own generally shabby and patched
"habiliments, seemed, I thought, to excite amongst some of
"the groups both anger and displeasure.
"For some time no one accosted me, and I walked
" up and down till I heard a clock strike four, without being
" able to rest where no seats were to be seen. Nothing
" but a damp paved floor and dirty stone walls, with here
"and there a grated window placed high above, met
" my eyes.
"At last, at a turning in the gallery, I perceived a
"large open door and heard the sound of many voices.
"I approached, and then a man standing near with folded
"arms asked if I was a new-comer. I replied that I was,
"and was looking for some place where I could find a seat.
" He told me to enter the large room I saw before me, which
" he said was the Prison Coffee House, and where I could
" have, for money, a dinner if I wished it. I gladly followed
" his advice, and, having tasted nothing since my breakfast
" at home, I was really in want of some refreshment.
" I sat down at a small table covered with a yellowish-
" white napkin, crumpled and spotted all over with stains
" of beer and grease, serving as a table cloth. A dirty
"looking waiter came to ask me if I wanted dinner, at