Sometimes he raised his furrowed brow to heaven, as if in prayer; sometimes he bent his head, as if an insupportable weight of sorrow were upon him.

It increased the awfulness of his aspect that there was a motion of his head and an almost continual tremor throughout his frame, with singular twitches and contortions of his features.
The hot sun blazed upon his unprotected head; but he seemed not to feel its fervor.

A dark cloud swept across the sky and rain-drops pattered into the market-place; but the stranger heeded not the shower.

The people began to gaze at the mysterious old gentleman with superstitious fear and wonder.

Who could he be?
Whence did he come?
Wherefore was he standing bareheaded in the market-place?
Even the school-boys left the merry-andrew and came to gaze, with wide-open eyes, at this tall, strange-looking old man.
There was a cattle-drover in the village who had recently made a journey to the Smithfield market, in London.