Sam Weller On The East River

Í5am vt uuur was öt-aijtju uu tuo ijuaitci deck of a coal barge not far from the Brooklyn navy yard, sunning himself, a day or two ago, when the following incident occurred, which he relaas iu his own characterÍ6tio way : I was sittin takin' it easy like, says Sam, when up steps a gen'l'm'n and says : " You don't remeraber me '{" " Can't say I do," says I. " Oh, know you," says the gen'l'm'n, " knowed you when you was a boy," says he. " Well, I don't remember you," says I. " That's wery odd," says the gen'l'm'n. '■ Well, it isn't wery prime on recollectin'," says I. "Then he giows coufidentialer and says : " It's a wery narrer channel here for a Spanish big 'un to get through!" " It is rather narrer," says I. " Nasty bit," says he, " and more especialer il' suthin shoula upset ana gei stucK in m! mud, wht couldn't be dug up less nor a fortnight or so, till thia Cuby question's riz off the public mind ?" " Wery nasty sitiwation," says I. " Well," saya the gen'l'm'n, " you're a wery good bargeinan as can do wha he likes with his own barge." " It's wery kind o' you," says I, conoealin' suthin, as he handed orer to ine. " Good arternoon," says the gen'l'm'n. " Good arternoon," says I. And you wouldn't b'lieve, p'raps, but next mornin' afore daybreak a barge was upset on that wary spot as the gen'l'm'n pointed out.