“Well, I was born in New York, and there I lived a steady, hard-working man, a cooper by trade. One evening I went to a political meeting in the Park—for you must know, I was in those days a great patriot. As bad luck would have it, there was trouble near, between a gentleman who had been drinking wine, and a pavior who was sober. The pavior chewed tobacco, and the gentleman said it was beastly in him, and pushed him, wanting to have his place. The pavior chewed on and pushed back. Well, the gentleman carried a sword-cane, and presently the pavior was down—skewered.”
“How was that?”
“Why you see the pavior undertook something above his strength.”
“The other must have been a Samson then. ‘Strong as a pavior,’ is a proverb.”
“So it is, and the gentleman was in body a rather weakly man, but, for all that, I say again, the pavior undertook something above his strength.”
“What are you talking about? He tried to maintain his rights, didn’t he?”
“Yes; but, for all that, I say again, he undertook something above his strength.”
“I don’t understand you. But go on.”
“Along with the gentleman, I, with other witnesses, was taken to the Tombs. There was an examination, and, to appear at the trial, the gentleman and witnesses all gave bail—I mean all but me.”
“And why didn’t you?”