“Standing like patient oxen in their stalls,” Mr. Hunt discovers a row of hapless souls, each held tightly by the nose in the grip of a vice.

This is the just penalty ordained for those who habitually intruded their noses into the affairs of others.

In an enclosure of the same district notorious prize-fighters, wearing eiderdown mittens, are compelled to fight big brawny Demons wearing spiked gloves.