Charley Pevenill was our host. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. The reward is mine. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor.
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