"I say, young cove, where are you a-pushing of?"
The speaker was a very tall individual whose sharp-pointed elbow
had, more than once, obtruded itself into my ribs. He was
extremely thin and bony, with a long, drooping nose set very much
to one side, and was possessed of a remarkable pair of eyes--that
is to say, one eyelid hung continually lower than the other, thus
lending to his otherwise sinister face an air of droll and
unexpected waggery that was quite startling to behold.
All about us were jostling throngs of men and women in snowy
smock frocks, and holiday gowns, who pushed, or were pushed,
laughed, or frowned, according to their several natures; while
above the merry hubbub rose the blare of trumpets, the braying of
horns, and the crash, and rattle of drums--in a word, I was in
the middle of an English Country Fair.
"Now then, young cove," repeated the man I have alluded to,
"where are you a-pushing of? Don't do it again, or mind your
eye!" And, saying this, he glared balefully at me with one eye
and leered jocosely with the other, and into my ribs came his
elbow again.
"You seem to be able to do something in that way yourself," I
retorted.
"Oh--do I?"
"Yes," said I; "suppose you take your elbow out of my waistcoat."
"'Elber,'" repeated the man, "what d'ye mean by 'elber'?"
"This," said I, catching his arm in no very gentle grip.
"If it's a fight you're wantin'--" began the man.
"It isn't!" said I.
"Then leggo my arm!"
"Then keep your elbow to yourself."
"'Cod! I never see such a hot-headed cove!"
"Nor I a more bad-tempered one."
This altercation had taken place as we swayed to and fro in the
crowd, from which we now slowly won free, owing chiefly to the
dexterous use of the man's bony elbows, until we presently found
ourselves in a veritable jungle of carts and wagons of all kinds
and sorts, where we stopped, facing each other.
"I'm inclined to think, young cove, as you'd be short-tempered if
you been shied at by your feller-man from your youth up," said
the man.
"What do you mean by 'shied at'?"
"What I sez!--some perfessions is easy, and some is 'ard--like
mine."
"And what is yours?"
"I'm a perfessional Sambo."
"A what?"
"Well--a 'Nigger-head' then,--blacks my face--sticks my 'ead
through a 'ole, and lets 'em shy at me--three shies a penny--them
as 'its me gets a cigar--a big 'un--them as don't--don't!"