Why there he is! Punch and Judy hunting, the young wretch, it’s that Billy as sartin as sin!
But let me get him home, with a good grip of his hair, and I’m blest if he shall have a whole bone in his skin!”
POTTED SHRIMPS.
SKETCHES ON THE ROAD.
THE OBSERVER.
“IT’S very strange,” said the coachman,—looking at me over his left shoulder—“I never see it afore—but I’ve made three observations through life.”
Bat—so called for shortness, though in feet and inches he was rather an Upper Benjamin—was anything but what Othello denominates “a puny whipster.” He had brandished the whip for full thirty years, at an average of as many miles a day; the product of which, calculated according to Cocker, appears in a respectable sum total of six figures deep.