A ride of two hundred and odd miles in severe weather, is one of thebest softeners of a hard bed that ingenuity can devise. Perhaps it iseven a sweetener of dreams, for those which hovered over the rough couchof Nicholas, and whispered their airy nothings in his ear, were of anagreeable and happy kind. He was making his fortune very fast indeed,when the faint glimmer of an expiring candle shone before his eyes, anda voice he had no difficulty in recognising as part and parcel of MrSqueers, admonished him that it was time to rise.

'Past seven, Nickleby,' said Mr Squeers.

'Has morning come already?' asked Nicholas, sitting up in bed.

'Ah! that has it,' replied Squeers, 'and ready iced too. Now, Nickleby,come; tumble up, will you?'

Nicholas needed no further admonition, but 'tumbled up' at once, andproceeded to dress himself by the light of the taper, which Mr Squeerscarried in his hand.

'Here's a pretty go,' said that gentleman; 'the pump's froze.'

'Indeed!' said Nicholas, not much interested in the intelligence.

'Yes,' replied Squeers. 'You can't wash yourself this morning.'

'Not wash myself!' exclaimed Nicholas.

'No, not a bit of it,' rejoined Squeers tartly. 'So you must be contentwith giving yourself a dry polish till we break the ice in the well, andcan get a bucketful out for the boys. Don't stand staring at me, but dolook sharp, will you?'

Offering no further observation, Nicholas huddled on his clothes.Squeers, meanwhile, opened the shutters and blew the candle out; whenthe voice of his amiable consort was heard in the passage, demandingadmittance.

'Come in, my love,' said Squeers.

Mrs Squeers came in, still habited in the primitive night-jacket whichhad displayed the symmetry of her figure on the previous night, andfurther ornamented with a beaver bonnet of some antiquity, which shewore, with much ease and lightness, on the top of the nightcap beforementioned.

'Drat the things,' said the lady, opening the cupboard; 'I can't findthe school spoon anywhere.'

'Never mind it, my dear,' observed Squeers in a soothing manner; 'it'sof no consequence.'

'No consequence, why how you talk!' retorted Mrs Squeers sharply; 'isn'tit brimstone morning?'

'I forgot, my dear,' rejoined Squeers; 'yes, it certainly is. We purifythe boys' bloods now and then, Nickleby.'

'Purify fiddlesticks' ends,' said his lady. 'Don't think, young man,that we go to the expense of flower of brimstone and molasses, just topurify them; because if you think we carry on the business in that way,you'll find yourself mistaken, and so I tell you plainly.'

'My dear,' said Squeers frowning. 'Hem!'

'Oh! nonsense,' rejoined Mrs Squeers. 'If the young man comes to bea teacher here, let him understand, at once, that we don't want anyfoolery about the boys. They have the brimstone and treacle, partlybecause if they hadn't something or other in the way of medicine they'dbe always ailing and giving a world of trouble, and partly because itspoils their appetites and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner. So,it does them good and us good at the same time, and that's fair enoughI'm sure.'

Having given this explanation, Mrs Squeers put her head into the closetand instituted a stricter search after the spoon, in which Mr Squeersassisted. A few words passed between them while they were thus engaged,but as their voices were partially stifled by the cupboard, all thatNicholas could distinguish was, that Mr Squeers said what Mrs Squeershad said, was injudicious, and that Mrs Squeers said what Mr Squeerssaid, was 'stuff.'

A vast deal of searching and rummaging ensued, and it proving fruitless,Smike was called in, and pushed by Mrs Squeers, and boxed by Mr Squeers;which course of treatment brightening his intellects, enabled him tosuggest that possibly Mrs Squeers might have the spoon in her pocket,as indeed turned out to be the case. As Mrs Squeers had previouslyprotested, however, that she was quite certain she had not got it,Smike received another box on the ear for presuming to contradict hismistress, together with a promise of a sound thrashing if he were notmore respectful in future; so that he took nothing very advantageous byhis motion.

'A most invaluable woman, that, Nickleby,' said Squeers when his consorthad hurried away, pushing the drudge before her.

'Indeed, sir!' observed Nicholas.

'I don't know her equal,' said Squeers; 'I do not know her equal. Thatwoman, Nickleby, is always the same--always the same bustling, lively,active, saving creetur that you see her now.'

Nicholas sighed involuntarily at the thought of the agreeable domesticprospect thus opened to him; but Squeers was, fortunately, too muchoccupied with his own reflections to perceive it.

'It's my way to say, when I am up in London,' continued Squeers, 'thatto them boys she is a mother. But she is more than a mother to them;ten times more. She does things for them boys, Nickleby, that I don'tbelieve half the mothers going, would do for their own sons.'

'I should think they would not, sir,' answered Nicholas.

Now, the fact was, that both Mr and Mrs Squeers viewed the boys in thelight of their proper and natural enemies; or, in other words, they heldand considered that their business and profession was to get as muchfrom every boy as could by possibility be screwed out of him. On thispoint they were both agreed, and behaved in unison accordingly. Theonly difference between them was, that Mrs Squeers waged war againstthe enemy openly and fearlessly, and that Squeers covered his rascality,even at home, with a spice of his habitual deceit; as if he really hada notion of someday or other being able to take himself in, and persuadehis own mind that he was a very good fellow.

'But come,' said Squeers, interrupting the progress of some thoughts tothis effect in the mind of his usher, 'let's go to the schoolroom; andlend me a hand with my school-coat, will you?'

Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old fustian shooting-jacket,which he took down from a peg in the passage; and Squeers, arminghimself with his cane, led the way across a yard, to a door in the rearof the house.

'There,' said the schoolmaster as they stepped in together; 'this is ourshop, Nickleby!'

It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many objects to attractattention, that, at first, Nicholas stared about him, really withoutseeing anything at all. By degrees, however, the place resolved itselfinto a bare and dirty room, with a couple of windows, whereof atenth part might be of glass, the remainder being stopped up with oldcopy-books and paper. There were a couple of long old rickety desks, cutand notched, and inked, and damaged, in every possible way; two or threeforms; a detached desk for Squeers; and another for his assistant. Theceiling was supported, like that of a barn, by cross-beams and rafters;and the walls were so stained and discoloured, that it was impossible totell whether they had ever been touched with paint or whitewash.

But the pupils--the young noblemen! How the last faint traces of hope,the remotest glimmering of any good to be derived from his efforts inthis den, faded from the mind of Nicholas as he looked in dismayaround! Pale and haggard faces, lank and bony figures, children with thecountenances of old men, deformities with irons upon their limbs, boysof stunted growth, and others whose long meagre legs would hardly beartheir stooping bodies, all crowded on the view together; there werethe bleared eye, the hare-lip, the crooked foot, and every uglinessor distortion that told of unnatural aversion conceived by parents fortheir offspring, or of young lives which, from the earliest dawn ofinfancy, had been one horrible endurance of cruelty and neglect. Therewere little faces which should have been handsome, darkened with thescowl of sullen, dogged suffering; there was childhood with the light ofits eye quenched, its beauty gone, and its helplessness alone remaining;there were vicious-faced boys, brooding, with leaden eyes, likemalefactors in a jail; and there were young creatures on whom the sinsof their frail parents had descended, weeping even for the mercenarynurses they had known, and lonesome even in their loneliness. With everykindly sympathy and affection blasted in its birth, with every young andhealthy feeling flogged and starved down, with every revengeful passionthat can fester in swollen hearts, eating its evil way to their core insilence, what an incipient Hell was breeding here!

And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque features,which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas, might have provokeda smile. Mrs Squeers stood at one of the desks, presiding over animmense basin of brimstone and treacle, of which delicious compound sheadministered a large instalment to each boy in succession: using forthe purpose a common wooden spoon, which might have been originallymanufactured for some gigantic top, and which widened every younggentleman's mouth considerably: they being all obliged, under heavycorporal penalties, to take in the whole of the bowl at a gasp. Inanother corner, huddled together for companionship, were the littleboys who had arrived on the preceding night, three of them in very largeleather breeches, and two in old trousers, a something tighter fit thandrawers are usually worn; at no great distance from these was seatedthe juvenile son and heir of Mr Squeers--a striking likeness of hisfather--kicking, with great vigour, under the hands of Smike, whowas fitting upon him a pair of new boots that bore a most suspiciousresemblance to those which the least of the little boys had worn onthe journey down--as the little boy himself seemed to think, for hewas regarding the appropriation with a look of most rueful amazement.Besides these, there was a long row of boys waiting, with countenancesof no pleasant anticipation, to be treacled; and another file, whohad just escaped from the infliction, making a variety of wry mouthsindicative of anything but satisfaction. The whole were attired insuch motley, ill-assorted, extraordinary garments, as would have beenirresistibly ridiculous, but for the foul appearance of dirt, disorder,and disease, with which they were associated.

'Now,' said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with his cane, whichmade half the little boys nearly jump out of their boots, 'is thatphysicking over?'

'Just over,' said Mrs Squeers, choking the last boy in her hurry, andtapping the crown of his head with the wooden spoon to restore him.'Here, you Smike; take away now. Look sharp!'

Smike shuffled out with the basin, and Mrs Squeers having called up alittle boy with a curly head, and wiped her hands upon it, hurried outafter him into a species of wash-house, where there was a small fire anda large kettle, together with a number of little wooden bowls which werearranged upon a board.

Into these bowls, Mrs Squeers, assisted by the hungry servant, poureda brown composition, which looked like diluted pincushions withoutthe covers, and was called porridge. A minute wedge of brown bread wasinserted in each bowl, and when they had eaten their porridge by meansof the bread, the boys ate the bread itself, and had finished theirbreakfast; whereupon Mr Squeers said, in a solemn voice, 'For what wehave received, may the Lord make us truly thankful!'--and went away tohis own.

Nicholas distended his stomach with a bowl of porridge, for much thesame reason which induces some savages to swallow earth--lest theyshould be inconveniently hungry when there is nothing to eat. Havingfurther disposed of a slice of bread and butter, allotted to him invirtue of his office, he sat himself down, to wait for school-time.

He could not but observe how silent and sad the boys all seemed to be.There was none of the noise and clamour of a schoolroom; none ofits boisterous play, or hearty mirth. The children sat crouching andshivering together, and seemed to lack the spirit to move about. Theonly pupil who evinced the slightest tendency towards locomotion orplayfulness was Master Squeers, and as his chief amusement was to treadupon the other boys' toes in his new boots, his flow of spirits wasrather disagreeable than otherwise.

After some half-hour's delay, Mr Squeers reappeared, and the boys tooktheir places and their books, of which latter commodity the averagemight be about one to eight learners. A few minutes having elapsed,during which Mr Squeers looked very profound, as if he had a perfectapprehension of what was inside all the books, and could say every wordof their contents by heart if he only chose to take the trouble, thatgentleman called up the first class.

Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front of theschoolmaster's desk, half-a-dozen scarecrows, out at knees and elbows,one of whom placed a torn and filthy book beneath his learned eye.

'This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy, Nickleby,'said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside him. 'We'll get up aLatin one, and hand that over to you. Now, then, where's the first boy?'

'Please, sir, he's cleaning the back-parlour window,' said the temporaryhead of the philosophical class.

'So he is, to be sure,' rejoined Squeers. 'We go upon the practical modeof teaching, Nickleby; the regular education system. C-l-e-a-n, clean,verb active, to make bright, to scour. W-i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, acasement. When the boy knows this out of book, he goes and does it. It'sjust the same principle as the use of the globes. Where's the secondboy?'

'Please, sir, he's weeding the garden,' replied a small voice.

'To be sure,' said Squeers, by no means disconcerted. 'So he is. B-o-t,bot, t-i-n, tin, bottin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, noun substantive,a knowledge of plants. When he has learned that bottinney means aknowledge of plants, he goes and knows 'em. That's our system, Nickleby:what do you think of it?'

'It's very useful one, at any rate,' answered Nicholas.

'I believe you,' rejoined Squeers, not remarking the emphasis of hisusher. 'Third boy, what's horse?'

'A beast, sir,' replied the boy.

'So it is,' said Squeers. 'Ain't it, Nickleby?'

'I believe there is no doubt of that, sir,' answered Nicholas.

'Of course there isn't,' said Squeers. 'A horse is a quadruped, andquadruped's Latin for beast, as everybody that's gone through thegrammar knows, or else where's the use of having grammars at all?'

'Where, indeed!' said Nicholas abstractedly.

'As you're perfect in that,' resumed Squeers, turning to the boy, 'goand look after MY horse, and rub him down well, or I'll rub you down.The rest of the class go and draw water up, till somebody tells youto leave off, for it's washing-day tomorrow, and they want the coppersfilled.'

So saying, he dismissed the first class to their experiments inpractical philosophy, and eyed Nicholas with a look, half cunning andhalf doubtful, as if he were not altogether certain what he might thinkof him by this time.

'That's the way we do it, Nickleby,' he said, after a pause.

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders in a manner that was scarcelyperceptible, and said he saw it was.

'And a very good way it is, too,' said Squeers. 'Now, just take themfourteen little boys and hear them some reading, because, you know, youmust begin to be useful. Idling about here won't do.'

Mr Squeers said this, as if it had suddenly occurred to him, either thathe must not say too much to his assistant, or that his assistant didnot say enough to him in praise of the establishment. The children werearranged in a semicircle round the new master, and he was soon listeningto their dull, drawling, hesitating recital of those stories ofengrossing interest which are to be found in the more antiquatedspelling-books.

In this exciting occupation, the morning lagged heavily on. At oneo'clock, the boys, having previously had their appetites thoroughlytaken away by stir-about and potatoes, sat down in the kitchen to somehard salt beef, of which Nicholas was graciously permitted to take hisportion to his own solitary desk, to eat it there in peace. After this,there was another hour of crouching in the schoolroom and shivering withcold, and then school began again.

It was Mr Squeer's custom to call the boys together, and make a sort ofreport, after every half-yearly visit to the metropolis, regarding therelations and friends he had seen, the news he had heard, the letters hehad brought down, the bills which had been paid, the accounts which hadbeen left unpaid, and so forth. This solemn proceeding always took placein the afternoon of the day succeeding his return; perhaps, because theboys acquired strength of mind from the suspense of the morning, or,possibly, because Mr Squeers himself acquired greater sternness andinflexibility from certain warm potations in which he was wont toindulge after his early dinner. Be this as it may, the boys wererecalled from house-window, garden, stable, and cow-yard, and the schoolwere assembled in full conclave, when Mr Squeers, with a small bundle ofpapers in his hand, and Mrs S. following with a pair of canes, enteredthe room and proclaimed silence.

'Let any boy speak a word without leave,' said Mr Squeers mildly, 'andI'll take the skin off his back.'

This special proclamation had the desired effect, and a deathlikesilence immediately prevailed, in the midst of which Mr Squeers went onto say:

'Boys, I've been to London, and have returned to my family and you, asstrong and well as ever.'

According to half-yearly custom, the boys gave three feeble cheers atthis refreshing intelligence. Such cheers! Sights of extra strength withthe chill on.

'I have seen the parents of some boys,' continued Squeers, turning overhis papers, 'and they're so glad to hear how their sons are getting on,that there's no prospect at all of their going away, which of course isa very pleasant thing to reflect upon, for all parties.'

Two or three hands went to two or three eyes when Squeers said this, butthe greater part of the young gentlemen having no particular parents tospeak of, were wholly uninterested in the thing one way or other.

'I have had disappointments to contend against,' said Squeers, lookingvery grim; 'Bolder's father was two pound ten short. Where is Bolder?'

'Here he is, please sir,' rejoined twenty officious voices. Boys arevery like men to be sure.

'Come here, Bolder,' said Squeers.

An unhealthy-looking boy, with warts all over his hands, stepped fromhis place to the master's desk, and raised his eyes imploringly toSqueers's face; his own, quite white from the rapid beating of hisheart.

'Bolder,' said Squeers, speaking very slowly, for he was considering, asthe saying goes, where to have him. 'Bolder, if you father thinks thatbecause--why, what's this, sir?'

As Squeers spoke, he caught up the boy's hand by the cuff of his jacket,and surveyed it with an edifying aspect of horror and disgust.

'What do you call this, sir?' demanded the schoolmaster, administering acut with the cane to expedite the reply.

'I can't help it, indeed, sir,' rejoined the boy, crying. 'They willcome; it's the dirty work I think, sir--at least I don't know what itis, sir, but it's not my fault.'

'Bolder,' said Squeers, tucking up his wristbands, and moisteningthe palm of his right hand to get a good grip of the cane, 'you're anincorrigible young scoundrel, and as the last thrashing did you no good,we must see what another will do towards beating it out of you.'

With this, and wholly disregarding a piteous cry for mercy, Mr Squeersfell upon the boy and caned him soundly: not leaving off, indeed, untilhis arm was tired out.

'There,' said Squeers, when he had quite done; 'rub away as hard as youlike, you won't rub that off in a hurry. Oh! you won't hold that noise,won't you? Put him out, Smike.'

The drudge knew better from long experience, than to hesitate aboutobeying, so he bundled the victim out by a side-door, and Mr Squeersperched himself again on his own stool, supported by Mrs Squeers, whooccupied another at his side.

'Now let us see,' said Squeers. 'A letter for Cobbey. Stand up, Cobbey.'

Another boy stood up, and eyed the letter very hard while Squeers made amental abstract of the same.

'Oh!' said Squeers: 'Cobbey's grandmother is dead, and his uncle Johnhas took to drinking, which is all the news his sister sends, excepteighteenpence, which will just pay for that broken square of glass. MrsSqueers, my dear, will you take the money?'

The worthy lady pocketed the eighteenpence with a most business-likeair, and Squeers passed on to the next boy, as coolly as possible.

'Graymarsh,' said Squeers, 'he's the next. Stand up, Graymarsh.'

Another boy stood up, and the schoolmaster looked over the letter asbefore.

'Graymarsh's maternal aunt,' said Squeers, when he had possessed himselfof the contents, 'is very glad to hear he's so well and happy, and sendsher respectful compliments to Mrs Squeers, and thinks she must be anangel. She likewise thinks Mr Squeers is too good for this world; buthopes he may long be spared to carry on the business. Would have sentthe two pair of stockings as desired, but is short of money, so forwardsa tract instead, and hopes Graymarsh will put his trust in Providence.Hopes, above all, that he will study in everything to please Mr and MrsSqueers, and look upon them as his only friends; and that he will loveMaster Squeers; and not object to sleeping five in a bed, which noChristian should. Ah!' said Squeers, folding it up, 'a delightfulletter. Very affecting indeed.'

It was affecting in one sense, for Graymarsh's maternal aunt wasstrongly supposed, by her more intimate friends, to be no other than hismaternal parent; Squeers, however, without alluding to this part of thestory (which would have sounded immoral before boys), proceeded withthe business by calling out 'Mobbs,' whereupon another boy rose, andGraymarsh resumed his seat.

'Mobbs's step-mother,' said Squeers, 'took to her bed on hearing that hewouldn't eat fat, and has been very ill ever since. She wishes to know,by an early post, where he expects to go to, if he quarrels withhis vittles; and with what feelings he could turn up his nose at thecow's-liver broth, after his good master had asked a blessing on it.This was told her in the London newspapers--not by Mr Squeers, for he istoo kind and too good to set anybody against anybody--and it has vexedher so much, Mobbs can't think. She is sorry to find he is discontented,which is sinful and horrid, and hopes Mr Squeers will flog him intoa happier state of mind; with which view, she has also stopped hishalfpenny a week pocket-money, and given a double-bladed knife with acorkscrew in it to the Missionaries, which she had bought on purpose forhim.'

'A sulky state of feeling,' said Squeers, after a terrible pause, duringwhich he had moistened the palm of his right hand again, 'won't do.Cheerfulness and contentment must be kept up. Mobbs, come to me!'

Mobbs moved slowly towards the desk, rubbing his eyes in anticipationof good cause for doing so; and he soon afterwards retired by theside-door, with as good cause as a boy need have.

Mr Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous collection of letters;some enclosing money, which Mrs Squeers 'took care of;' and othersreferring to small articles of apparel, as caps and so forth, all ofwhich the same lady stated to be too large, or too small, and calculatedfor nobody but young Squeers, who would appear indeed to have had mostaccommodating limbs, since everything that came into the school fittedhim to a nicety. His head, in particular, must have been singularlyelastic, for hats and caps of all dimensions were alike to him.

This business dispatched, a few slovenly lessons were performed, andSqueers retired to his fireside, leaving Nicholas to take care of theboys in the school-room, which was very cold, and where a meal of breadand cheese was served out shortly after dark.

There was a small stove at that corner of the room which was nearestto the master's desk, and by it Nicholas sat down, so depressed andself-degraded by the consciousness of his position, that if death couldhave come upon him at that time, he would have been almost happy to meetit. The cruelty of which he had been an unwilling witness, the coarseand ruffianly behaviour of Squeers even in his best moods, the filthyplace, the sights and sounds about him, all contributed to this state offeeling; but when he recollected that, being there as an assistant,he actually seemed--no matter what unhappy train of circumstances hadbrought him to that pass--to be the aider and abettor of a system whichfilled him with honest disgust and indignation, he loathed himself, andfelt, for the moment, as though the mere consciousness of his presentsituation must, through all time to come, prevent his raising his headagain.

But, for the present, his resolve was taken, and the resolution he hadformed on the preceding night remained undisturbed. He had written tohis mother and sister, announcing the safe conclusion of his journey,and saying as little about Dotheboys Hall, and saying that little ascheerfully, as he possibly could. He hoped that by remaining where hewas, he might do some good, even there; at all events, others dependedtoo much on his uncle's favour, to admit of his awakening his wrath justthen.

One reflection disturbed him far more than any selfish considerationsarising out of his own position. This was the probable destination ofhis sister Kate. His uncle had deceived him, and might he not consignher to some miserable place where her youth and beauty would prove a fargreater curse than ugliness and decrepitude? To a caged man, bound handand foot, this was a terrible idea--but no, he thought, his mother wasby; there was the portrait-painter, too--simple enough, but still livingin the world, and of it. He was willing to believe that Ralph Nicklebyhad conceived a personal dislike to himself. Having pretty good reason,by this time, to reciprocate it, he had no great difficulty in arrivingat this conclusion, and tried to persuade himself that the feelingextended no farther than between them.

As he was absorbed in these meditations, he all at once encountered theupturned face of Smike, who was on his knees before the stove, picking afew stray cinders from the hearth and planting them on the fire. Hehad paused to steal a look at Nicholas, and when he saw that he wasobserved, shrunk back, as if expecting a blow.

'You need not fear me,' said Nicholas kindly. 'Are you cold?'

'N-n-o.'

'You are shivering.'

'I am not cold,' replied Smike quickly. 'I am used to it.'

There was such an obvious fear of giving offence in his manner, and hewas such a timid, broken-spirited creature, that Nicholas could not helpexclaiming, 'Poor fellow!'

If he had struck the drudge, he would have slunk away without a word.But, now, he burst into tears.

'Oh dear, oh dear!' he cried, covering his face with his cracked andhorny hands. 'My heart will break. It will, it will.'

'Hush!' said Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder. 'Be a man; youare nearly one by years, God help you.'

'By years!' cried Smike. 'Oh dear, dear, how many of them! How many ofthem since I was a little child, younger than any that are here now!Where are they all!'

'Whom do you speak of?' inquired Nicholas, wishing to rouse the poorhalf-witted creature to reason. 'Tell me.'

'My friends,' he replied, 'myself--my--oh! what sufferings mine havebeen!'

'There is always hope,' said Nicholas; he knew not what to say.

'No,' rejoined the other, 'no; none for me. Do you remember the boy thatdied here?'

'I was not here, you know,' said Nicholas gently; 'but what of him?'

'Why,' replied the youth, drawing closer to his questioner's side, 'Iwas with him at night, and when it was all silent he cried no more forfriends he wished to come and sit with him, but began to see faces roundhis bed that came from home; he said they smiled, and talked to him; andhe died at last lifting his head to kiss them. Do you hear?'

'Yes, yes,' rejoined Nicholas.

'What faces will smile on me when I die!' cried his companion,shivering. 'Who will talk to me in those long nights! They cannot comefrom home; they would frighten me, if they did, for I don't know what itis, and shouldn't know them. Pain and fear, pain and fear for me, aliveor dead. No hope, no hope!'

The bell rang to bed: and the boy, subsiding at the sound into his usuallistless state, crept away as if anxious to avoid notice. It was with aheavy heart that Nicholas soon afterwards--no, not retired; there was noretirement there--followed--to his dirty and crowded dormitory.