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Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment. “Are you serious?” “You know very well that I should never joke on such a subject. The cage at Willesden was, and is—for it is still standing—a small round building about eight feet high, with a pointed tiled roof, to which a number of boards, inscribed with the names of the parish officers, and charged with a multitude of admonitory notices to vagrants and other disorderly persons, are attached. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined.
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