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. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman.
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