orth side of Newgate consists
of two court-yards, which are far too circumscribed for the numerous
inhabitants, this prison always exhibiting a multitudinous calendar of
human depravity. The men's court is only 49 feet 6 inches, by 31 feet 6,
and the women's of the same length, and about half the width. The whole
square is entirely surrounded by the wards, ~103~~ which rise three
stories above the pavement. The women's yard is separated from the
men's by a wall. In the south and south-east yards, felons for trial are
confined, and four other yards are similarly occupied. The yard assigned
to female felons is a wretched place, containing three wards, in which
are sometimes kept upwards of one hundred women. In the north-east
corner, next Newgate-street, is the condemned yard, in which are
kept persons under sentence of death. The yards and all the wards are
repeatedly lime-washed, and by these and other excellent regulations
of the Sheriffs of London, Newgate is changed from a loathsome prison,
dangerous to the health of the metropolis, to a state which may
be quoted as a model for all similar places. Water is plentiful,
ventilators are introduced into every window, and a general system of
cleanliness prevails throughout the whole prison. The morals of its
inmates have been improved, and their condition greatly meliorated
by Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, who like her predecessor in the exercise of
philanthropy, the celebrated Howard, delights in reducing the sum
of human misery. The feelings of the two visitors having been
amply gratified by demonstration of the happy result, from superior
management, accruing to the prisoners, they departed, not forgetting
the poor box, put up for general benefit, inviting the contributions of
charitable strangers.

Continuing their route, our perambulators proceeded down Skinner street
into Holborn, and traversed its extended line without any remarkable
occurrence, until they reached Broad Street, St. Giles's. "We are now,"
said Dashall, "in the Holy Land."

"Long life to your honors," exclaimed a ragged professor of mendicity:
"give a poor fellow the price of a _shake down_, and may you never be
without the comforts of an _upright_!"

"What mean you," asked the Squire, "by a shake down and an upright?"

"Not the worse luck that you don't know that self same thing now; but
sure enough a shake-down is a two-penny layer of straw, and saving the
tatters on my back, not a covering at all at all;