between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, i found the den of which i was in search. ordering my cab to wait, i passed down the steps, worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door i found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrant ship.