Well, I'd been doin a little business there among the folks, and had jist sot off for the river, mounted on "Old Clay," arter takin a glass of Ezra's most particular handsum Jamaiky, and was trottin off pretty slick, when who should I run agin but Tim Bradley. He is a dreadful ugly cross grained critter, as you een amost ever seed, when he is about half shaved. Well, I stopped short, and says, I, Mr. Bradley, I hope you beant hurt; I'm proper sorry I run agin you, you cant feel uglier than I do about it, I do assure you.