The Boy Soldier; Or, Garibaldi's Young Captain — page 327: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ee THE BOY SOLDIER; OR, GARIBALDI'S YOUNG CAPTAIN ae al i oe ai een eve Mt SA!) . a be oe it eat al iN i Win, we iT il nt a XO A STRICKEN HOME. “ Oh! ’mazin’ > well ! Them chaps from the Dials take Al. I never hac such capital wild men in all my life, only, you know, Bob, they eats so much. _Lor’ bless yer! you have no notion how them “ere coves'can eat—two pounds o’ steak every day, and two pots o’ malt arter every performance, I struck dead against the malt twice to-day, but how can a cove get over them? They threatened, if I stopped their beer, they’ d leaye off growlin’, | i and fightin’, and rolling o’ their chains ; that’s were they has me, you know. If it warn’t for their dreadful noises and horrible faces they pulls, it wouldn’t go atall. The beer theugh livens ’em up, and they goes it as fierce and true as life; even I think, sometimes, they must be rale genuine Savages,” “But how have you got along with the coin?” “Oh, pretty tidy.” “ Have you any more?” “Yes, plenty. How have you sf along with it? Did you palm much on it off on the yokels ?” “Yes, pretty fair; but not’ so much asI should like, Alf Green ain’t as near a good ’un as Barney was. ” , ‘* Ain’t he, though ?” “No, he ain't got the bounce in him which the Pug had.” “Poor devil ! der ?” What’s become on him, I won- No, 41. “ “ Lagged, you may depend on it, for summat.”’ ‘Come, now, then, you chaps,’ said old Haut- wig, calling to the wild Indians, “don’t you lie there all night,” At this moment Alf Green made his appearance. Bob whistled, and he joined them under the cart. “Well, how goes it, Alf?” said Hautwig. “ Did you get rid of your stu eres “Yes, nearly all; I sold a ‘quid’s’ worth to Young Stingo, at the sparring booth, and he shoved off in no time,” “Did he buy any more ?” ‘Yes ; took ten bob’s worth,” « That?s capital !” « And promised to take more to-morrow.”’ “Ah,” said Hautwig, “ Young Stingo would make a rare good pal. Wouldn’t he, bob ?” “T believe you, old un. His werry appearance would frighten any one.’ Just fancy a countryman accusing ‘him of doing such a thing; it would be more than his head’ was worth. MHe’s an awful bruiser.” “He had a turn up with a bloak about it to- day,” said Alf, ‘Did he, though ?” “Yes, and it was all a ball. ‘Me pass bad : ‘me