He admires the size of the edifice and wonders what it's all about.

He has no idea, poor wretch, of the spiritual destitution of a coral reef in the Pacific or what it costs to look up the precious souls among the coco-nuts and bread-fruit.
He goes to his crossing and begins to lay it out for the day.

The town awakes; the great tee-totum is set up for its daily spin and whirl; all that unaccountable reading and writing, which has been suspended for a few hours, recommences.

Jo and the other lower animals get on in the unintelligible mess as they can.

It is market-day.