"'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!"