Charles Dickens

“ Not prisoners.’
‘Yes, there is,’ said Roker. ‘There’s an unfortunate devil, who has got a friend on the poor side, that’s glad to do anything of that sort. He’s been running odd jobs, and that, for the last two months. Shall I send him?’
‘If you please,’ rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ‘Stay; no. The poor side, you say? I should like to see it. I’ll go to him myself.’
The poor side of a debtor’s prison is, as its name imports, that in which the most miserable and abject class of debtors are confined. A prisoner having declared upon the poor side, pays neither rent nor chummage. ”

“ Pickwick had been duped, deceived, and wronged by the destitute outcast who was now wholly in his power. Must we tell the truth? It was something from Mr. Pickwick’s waistcoat pocket, which chinked as it was given into Job’s hand, and the giving of which, somehow or other imparted a sparkle to the eye, and a swelling to the heart, of our excellent old friend, as he hurried away.
Sam had returned when Mr. Pickwick reached his own room, and was inspecting the arrangements that had been made for his comfort, with a kind of grim satisfaction which was very pleasant to look upon. ”

“ Pickwick, laying his hand gently and compassionately on his arm—‘I am afraid you will have to live in some noisy, crowded place. Now, pray, consider this room your own when you want quiet, or when any of your friends come to see you.’
‘Friends!’ interposed the man, in a voice which rattled in his throat. ‘if I lay dead at the bottom of the deepest mine in the world; tight screwed down and soldered in my coffin; rotting in the dark and filthy ditch that drags its slime along, beneath the foundations of this prison; I could not be more forgotten or unheeded than I am here. I am a dead man ”

“ Alfred Jingle; his head resting on his hands, his eyes fixed upon the fire, and his whole appearance denoting misery and dejection!
Near him, leaning listlessly against the wall, stood a strong–built countryman, flicking with a worn–out hunting–whip the top–boot that adorned his right foot; his left being thrust into an old slipper. ”

“ Pickwick, as they walked out to the staircase, and closed the door after them.
‘Eh?’ said Jingle. ‘Spout—dear relation—uncle Tom—couldn’t help it—must eat, you know. Wants of nature—and all that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Gone, my dear sir—last coat—can’t help it. Lived on a pair of boots—whole fortnight. Silk umbrella—ivory handle—week—fact—honour—ask Job—knows it.’
‘Lived for three weeks upon a pair of boots, and a silk umbrella with an ivory handle!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who had only heard of such things in shipwrecks or read of them in Constable’s Miscellany. ”

“ Martin. ‘What do you say, now? We’ll pay you out for three–and–sixpence a week. Come!’
‘And stand a gallon of beer down,’ chimed in Mr. Simpson. ‘There!’
‘And drink it on the spot,’ said the chaplain. ‘Now!’
‘I really am so wholly ignorant of the rules of this place,’ returned Mr. Pickwick, ‘that I do not yet comprehend you. Can I live anywhere else? I thought I could not.’
At this inquiry Mr. Martin looked, with a countenance of excessive surprise, at his two friends, and then each gentleman pointed with his right thumb over his left shoulder. ”

“ This is no fiction. Not a week passes over our head, but, in every one of our prisons for debt, some of these men must inevitably expire in the slow agonies of want, if they were not relieved by their fellow–prisoners. ”