A favourite game seems to be to surround the parental sentry-boxes with a fosse.

Every family has its castle, and every castle its moat.
I have been twice to Scheveningen, and on each occasion I acquired beneath its glittering magnitude a sense of depression.

That leaven of tenderness which every collection of human beings must have was harder to find at Scheveningen than anywhere in Holland--everything was so ordered, so organised, for pleasure, pleasure at any price, pleasure almost at the point of the bayonet.
But on the second occasion one little incident saved the day--an encounter with a strolling bird-fancier who dealt in Black-Headed Mannikins.

Two of these tiny brisk birds, in their Quaker black and brown, sat upon his cane to attract purchasers.

They fluttered to his finger, perched on his hat, simulated death in the palm of his hand, and went through other evolutions with the speed of thought and the bright spontaneous alacrity possible only to a small loyal bird.