oons, candle-sticks, and fire-irons all chained
to their separate places, is no longer to be seen. The night-cellar yet
exists, where the wretched obtain a temporary lodging and straw bed at
twopence per head; but the Augean stable has been cleansed of much of
its former impurities, and scarce a vestige remains of the disgusting
depravity of former times.

[Illustration: page029]

A little way up Dyot-street, on the right hand from Holborn, we
perceived the gateway to which Barney had directed me, and passing under
it into a court filled with tottering tenements of the most wretched
appearance, we were soon attracted to the spot we sought, by the clamour
of voices apparently singing and vociferating together. The faithful
Barney was ready posted at the door to receive us, and had evidently
prepared the company to show more than usual respect. An old building
or shed adjoining the deceased's residence, which had been used for
a carpenter's shop, was converted for the occasion from its general
purpose to a melancholy hall of mourning. At one end of this place
was the corpse of the deceased, visible to every person from its
being placed on a bed in a sitting posture, beneath a tester of ragged
check-furniture; large sheets of white linen were spread around the
walls in lieu of tapestries, and covered with various devices wrought
into fantastic images of flowers, angels, and seraphim. A large,
fresh-gathered posy in the bosom of the deceased had a most striking
effect, when contrasted ~30~~with the pallidness of death; over the
lower parts of the corpse was spread a counterpane, covered with roses,
marigolds, and sweet-smelling flowers; whilst on his breast reposed the
cross, emblematical of the dead man's faith; and on a table opposite,
at the extreme end, stood an image of our Redeemer, before which burned
four tall lights in massive candlesticks, lent by the priest upon such
occasions to give additional solemnity to the scene. There is something
very awful in the contemplation of death, from which not even the
strongest mind can altogether divest itself. But at a _wake_ the solemn
gloom which generally pervades the chamber of a lifeless corpse is
partially removed by the appearance of the friends of the deceased
arranged around, drinking, singing, and smoking tobacco in profusion.
Still there was something unusually impressive in observing the poor
widow of O'Rafferty, seated at the feet of her deceased lord with an
in