The comedian had been telling us about his sleep being disturbed by noise. Then came the reveal: he was sleeping on a bed in a department store.

It was brought to General Lee as he sat on his horse near the Chancellorsville House, and, unable to open it with his gauntleted hands, he passed it to me with directions to read it to him.

Welshmen, as in this very case of Pistol versus Fluellen, do not always stand quiet to have their leeks knocked about their pates — so the angry Saxon adopts other, and perhaps safer modes of giving vent to his Cymrophobia.

'How can I decide?' said I. 'You have not told me what you want of me. But I tell you now that if it is anything against the safety of the fort I will have no truck with it, so you can drive home your knife and welcome.'