"Time to dress for dinner," said Ruth from behind the curtain. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. Just now my best ones are all taken. Michelle looked like she was about to throw up herself. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul.
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