Roker, pausing for breath when they reached another gallery of the same dimensions as the one below, 'this is the coffee-room flight; the one above's the third, and the one above that's the top; and the room where you're a-going to sleep to-night is the warden's room, and it's this way--come on.' Having said all this in a breath, Mr.
Roker's statement, was the racket-ground; and it further appeared, on the testimony of the same gentleman, that there was a smaller area in that portion of the prison which was nearest Farringdon Street, denominated and called 'the Painted Ground,' from the fact of its walls having once displayed the semblance of various men- of-war in full sail, and other artistical effects achieved in bygone times by some imprisoned draughtsman in his leisure hours.
Roker, holding the door open, and looking triumphantly round at Mr.
Roker looked, for a reciprocity of feeling, into the countenance of Samuel Weller, who, until now, had observed a dignified silence.
Roker had so flatteringly described as an out-and-outer to sleep in.
Roker. 'One of 'em takes his twelve pints of ale a day, and never leaves off smoking even at his meals.'
Roker, after informing him that he could retire to rest at whatever hour he thought proper, without any further notice or formality, walked off, leaving him standing with Sam in the gallery.