"_Juror._ Pray, how many beds are there in the room where the deceased slept?
"_Witness._ Only eight, and please you, Sir.
"Indeed, and how many persons are in the habit of sleeping in the same apartment?--There are generally two or three in a bed, but the deceased had a bed to himself.
"Very comfortable truly. Is it not strange that none of his fellow lodgers ascertained that he was dead?--No, Sir, they go in and out without seeming to care for each other.
"Do you mean to say, if a poor man was to take a lodging at your house, you would let him lie for upwards of 48 hours without inquiring whether he required nourishment?--Why, Sir, I have known some of my lodgers, who have been out _upon the spree_ to _lay_ in bed for three and four days together, without a bit or a sup, and then they have gone out to their work as well and as hearty as ever they _was_ in their lives; I have known it often to have been done. There was plenty of _grub_ in the house if he liked to have asked for it; but I thought if I asked him to have victuals he would be offended, as he might receive it as a hint for the few nights' lodging that he owed me.
"Mr. Appleby, the parish surgeon, proved that the deceased died a natural death, and the Jury returned a verdict of 'Died by the visitation of God.'"
There was an old house in West Street, pulled down in April, 1840, which tradition affirmed to have been the residence of the infamous Jonathan Wild, and, when destroyed, its age was considered to be about three hundred years. At one time it was the Red Lion Inn; but for a hundred years prior to its demolition it was a low lodging-house. Owing to the numerous facilities for secretion and escape, it was the haunt of coiners, secret distillers, thieves, and perhaps worse. There were trap doors connected with the Fleet River through which booty might be thrown, or a man get away, if hard pressed; a secret door in a garret led to the next house, and there were many hiding places--in one of which a chimney sweep named Jones, who had escaped from Newgate, lay hidden for about six weeks, although the house was repeatedly searched by the police.
And there was Field Lane too, which was the house of the "Fence," or receiver of stolen goods. It was from this interesting locality that Charles Dickens drew that wonderful study of Fagin--who was a real character. Cruikshank has made him as immortal, but Kenny Meadows tried to delineate him in a clever series which appeared in _Bell's Life in London_, under the title of "Gallery of Comicalities."