' Mad he presumably was--at all events, an idiot. A lanky,
raw-boned, red-beaded man, perhaps forty years old; not clad, but
hung over with the filthiest rags; hatless, shoeless. He supported
himself by singing in the streets, generally psalms, and with
eccentric modulations of the voice which always occasioned mirth in
hearers. Sometimes he stood at a corner and began the delivery of a
passage of Scripture in French; how, where, or when he could have
acquired this knowledge was a mystery, and Jack would throw no light
on his own past. At present, having watched the funeral coaches pass
away, he lifted up his voice in a terrific blare, singing, 'All ye
works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord, praise Him and magnify Him for
ever.' Instantly he was assailed by the juvenile portion of the
throng, was pelted with anything that came to an, mocked
mercilessly, buffeted from behind. For a while he persisted in his
psalmody, but at length, without warning, he rushed upon his
tormentors, and with angry shrieks endeavoured to take revenge. The
uproar continued till a policeman came and cleared the way. Then
Jack went off again, singing, 'All ye works of the Lord.
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