Of Corporal Richard Roe, Late of the Grenadiers

Concerning Mr. Shrig's Little Reader A small, dim chamber, with many glasses and bottles arrayed very
precisely on numerous shelves; a very tall, broad-shouldered man who
smiled down from the rafters while he pulled at a very precise
whisker with his right hand, for his left had been replaced by a
shining steel hook; and Mr. Shrig who shook his placid head as he
leaned upon a long musket whose bayonet twinkled wickedly in the dim
light; all this Barnabas saw as, sighing, he opened his eyes.

"'E's all right now!" nodded the smiling giant.

"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Shrig, "but vith a lump on 'is 'ead like a negg.
'Run!' I sez. 'No!' sez 'e,--and 'ere's me vith vun eye a-going into
mourning, and 'im vith a lump on 'is nob like a noo-laid egg!"

"'E's game though, Jarsper," said the benevolent giant.

"Game! I believe you, Corp!" nodded Mr. Shrig. "Run!' I sez. 'No!'
sez 'e. 'Then v'ot vill you do?' sez I. 'Make them!' sez 'e. Game?
Lord love me, I should say so!" Here, seeing Barnabas sit upright,
Mr. Shrig laid by the musket and came towards him with his hand out.

"Sir," said he, "when them raskels got me down they meant to do for
me; ah! they'd ha' given me my quietus for good an' all if you
'adn't stood 'em off. Sir, if it ain't too much, I should like to
shake your daddle for that!"