Erratic pedestrianism was clearly dangerous, so we rushed round in Indian file, like braves on the warpath; and, by way of relieving the tedium, we speculated on the number of laps in a mile.
Our proceedings seemed to strike the wild beasts in the opposite den as unaccountable imbecility.

They grinned at us through the bars with as much delight as children might evince in the Zoological Gardens at a performance of insane monkeys.

But their amusement was suddenly arrested.

St.Peter appeared at the gate, flourishing his keys.

It was two o'clock.
What a strange sensation it was, mounting those dock stairs! More loudly than my experiences below, it said--"You are a prisoner." The court was densely crowded, and as I emerged into it, the sea of faces, suddenly caught _en masse_, seemed cold and alien.