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A Retrospect

           Whoisthisyoungbutcher?HeistheterroroftheyouthofCanterbury.Thereisavaguebeliefabroad,thatthebeefsuetwithwhichheanointshishairgiveshimunnaturalstrength,andthatheisamatchforaman.Heisabroad-faced,bull-necked,youngbutcher,withroughredcheeks,anill-conditionedmind,andaninjurioustongue.Hismainuseofthistongue,is,todisparageDoctorStrong’syounggentlemen.Hesays,publicly,thatiftheywantanythinghe’llgiveit‘em.Henamesindividualsamongthem(myselfincluded),whomhecouldundertaketosettlewithonehand,andtheothertiedbehindhim.Hewaylaysthesmallerboystopunchtheirunprotectedheads,andcallschallengesaftermeintheopenstreets.ForthesesufficientreasonsIresolvetofightthebutcher.

           Itisasummerevening,downinagreenhollow,atthecornerofawall.Imeetthebutcherbyappointment.Iamattendedbyaselectbodyofourboys;thebutcher,bytwootherbutchers,ayoungpublican,andasweep.Thepreliminariesareadjusted,andthebutcherandmyselfstandfacetoface.Inamomentthebutcherlightstenthousandcandlesoutofmylefteyebrow.Inanothermoment,Idon’tknowwherethewallis,orwhereIam,orwhereanybodyis.Ihardlyknowwhichismyselfandwhichthebutcher,wearealwaysinsuchatangleandtussle,knockingaboutuponthetroddengrass.

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Roboto Lora
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