Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Blank commissions, signed by the prince, to be filled up by the name of the person, who could raise a troop for his service, were liberally bestowed. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage.
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