In the close cells, is the quick reply,through the narrow vault, up the stone passage, and on the right, in the arched cell. The gaolergood, honesthearted manleads the way, through a chilly vault, up the narrow passage, to the left wing of the building. The air is pestiferous warm and diseased, it fans us as we approach. The gaoler puts his face to the grating, and in a guttural voice, says, youre wanted, young uns. They understand the summons they come forward as if released from torture to enjoy the pure air of heaven. Confinement, dreary and damp, has worn deep into their