"In Canton. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss.
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