This
greatly surprised him, but did not discourage him. To his notion,
there was nothing the matter with his plan of campaign; the only
miscalculation about it was that the campaign was becoming a lengthy
one, whereas he had expected it to be short.
When daylight arrived at last, he had made many a mile, and
canvassed many a crowd, but the only result was that he was
tolerably tired, rather hungry, and very sleepy. He wanted some
breakfast, but there was no way to get it. To beg for it did not occur
to him; as to pawning his sword, he would as soon have thought of
parting with his honor; he could spare some of his clothes- yes, but
one could as easily find a customer for a disease as for such clothes.
At noon he was still tramping- among the rabble which followed
after the royal procession now; for he argued that this regal
display would attract his little lunatic powerfully. He followed the
pageant through all its devious windings about London, and all the way
to Westminster and the Abbey. He drifted here and there among the
multitudes that were massed in the vicinity for a weary long time,
baffled and perplexed, and finally wandered off thinking, and trying
to contrive some way to better his plan of campaign. By and by, when
he came to himself out of his musings, he discovered that the town was
far behind him and that the day was growing old. He was near the
river, and in the country; it was a region of fine rural seats- not
the sort of district to welcome clothes like his.
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