"I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. I believe so because the 220 stories say his head was cut off by a tribe of witches and yet it still remained alive for many years after his decapitation.
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