't shut up. I wonder whether they've got her
in the padded cell.

We settle down again, but presently my fellow captive nudges me
and says: "Listen!" From another cell comes the voice of a woman
singing--the girl who is in for "inciting to resist, your worship," in
fact. "Listen!" he says, "that woman could sing once." Her voice is low
and sweet and plaintive, as of a woman who had been a singer but had
lost her voice. And what do you think it is?

The crowd in accents hushed reply--
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

Mrs Johnson's cell is suddenly silent. Then, not mimickingly, mockingly,
or scornfully, but as if the girl is a champion of Jesus of Nazareth,
and is hurt at the ignorance of the multitude, and pities _Him_:

Now who is this Jesus of Nazareth, say?

The policeman, coming along the passage, closes the wicket in her door,
but softly this time, and not before we catch the plaintive words again.

The crowd in accents hushed reply
"Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

My fellow felon throws the blanket off him impatiently, sits up with a
jerk, and gropes for his pipe.

"God!" he says. "But this is red hot! Have you got another match?"

I wonder what the Nazarene would have to say about it.

Sleep for a while. I wonder whether they'll give us time, or we'll be
able to sleep some of our sins off in the end, as we sleep our drink off
here? Then "The Paddock" and day light; but there's little time for the
Paddock here, for we must soon be back in court. The men borrow and lend
and divide tobacco, lend even pipes, while some break up hard tobacco
and roll cigarettes with bits of newspaper. If it is Sunday morning,
even those who have no hope for bail, and have long horrible day and
night before them, will sometimes join in a cheer as the more fortunate
are bailed. But the others have tea and bread and butter brought to
them by one of the Prisoners' Aid Societies, who ask for no religion
in return. They come to save bodies, and not to fish for souls. The men
walk up and down and to and fro, and cross and recross incessantly, as
caged men and animals always do--and as some uncaged men do too.

"Any of you gentlemen want breakfast?" Those who have money and
appetites order; some order for the sake of the tea alone; and some
"shout" two or three extra breakfasts for those who had nothing on them
when they were run in. We low people can be very kind to each other in
trouble. But now it's time to call us o