"Well, your honour, this here man comes and takes my beer.

"'Halloa, Jack!' I ses, 'no more o' that.'

"'No,' he says, 'there's no more; it's all gone.'

"'Stop a bit," says I; 'that wun't do, nuther.'

"'That wun't do?' he says. 'Wool that do?' and he ups with the jug and
hits me a smack in the mouth, and down I goes clean on the floor; he
then falls atop of me and right on the pot he held in his hand, which
broke with his fall, bein' a earthenware jug, and cuts his head, and
'Sarve him right,' I hopes your honour'll say; and the proof of which
statement is, sir, that there's the cut o' that jug on his forehead
plainly visible for anybody to see at this present moment. Now, sir,
what next? for there's summat else.

"'Jack,' says I, 'I'll summon you for this assault.'

"'Yes,' he says, 'and so'll I; I'll have ee afore his Worship Mr.
Knox.'

"'Afore his Worship Mr. Knox?' says I. 'And why not afore his Worship
the Rev. Mr. Hull? He's the gentleman for my money--a real gentleman
as'll hear reason, and do justice atween man and man.'

"'What!' says Jack, with an oath that I ain't going to repeat afore a
clergyman--'what!' he says, 'a d--d old dromedary like that!'

"'Dromedary, sir,' meaning your worship! Did anybody ever hear such