A REGULAR SNORTER.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 4939, 20 January 1877, Page 2 (Supplement)

A REGULAR SNORTER.

He was a small man, but a perfect reservoir of liquor and language. From nine o’clock until eleven o’clock, last Saturday night, he carried an eye full of blood about Danbury. He brought up finally in front of McGoffin’s saloon, and a small rabble soon gathered about him, awed by his prowess. Ho was perfectly willing to meet anybody and “whale lightning out of him,” but what ho particularly craved was the presence of that man in all Danbury who cherished an impression that he could lay him out. “ Where’s the man who thinks he can lay me out ? ” he screamed. "’hen he would yell “ Whoop ! ” as a sort of postscript, and spring up into the air. Tho crowd stared at him in dismay. He was, without doubt, what he claimed to be—a regular snortir. He had just delivered the challenge and 8.5., and was jumping backward and squaring off at ten thousand men at or.ee, when titeve Irvine appeared on his way homo with a basket of groceries. Steve is a broad-chested man, and of a height that would make him invaluable in case of a flood. “Are you looking for mo?” inquired Steve, in a tone of hoarse solicitude, as he loomed up above the pugilist. 'The little man ceased bin manoeuvres, looked up to the bronze face, and promptly explained : “You keep away from me. 1 don’t know you, and I can’t strike a stranger.” Steve smiled grimly, extended the basket of groceries to the warrior, bade him take bold of it, which ho did with alacrity, and directed him to start on ahead. “ What’s this ?” asked tho fighter, heaving all ho could to keep up under the burden. “ 1 want you to carry it home for mo,” rathe unexpected reply of tlie-giant. “Carry—it !” gasped tho gladiator, in a bewildered voice—“ carry ” “ Git i” said Stove, opening bis large hands in a painfully suggestive way. The rising pugilist hastened ahead with the load, looking as if he very much doubted the stability of the universe.