The tears were rolling down the man's cheeks.

"I can't see my way, sir, for crying," he said.

"Help me to carry that sad burden into the next street." He pointed to a rude wooden litter, on which lay a dead or wounded man, his face and breast covered with an old cloak.

"There is the best friend the people ever had," the workman said.

"He cured us, comforted us, respected us, loved us.