a child who's sittin' next:

"'Throw him out!'

"'That's enough. No gent will ever realise how easy it is to direct a
people's sentiment ontil he take a whirl at the game. In two minutes
by the teacher's bull's-eye copper watch, every soul knows it's pore
Riley; an' in three, the teacher's done drug Riley out doors by the
ha'r of his head an' chased him home. Gents, I look back on that
yoothful feat as a triumph of diplomacy; it shore saves my standin' as
the Beau Brummel of the Bloo Grass.

"'Good old days, them!' observes the Colonel mournfully, 'an' ones
never to come ag'in! My sternest studies is romances, an' the
peroosals of old tales as I tells you-all prior fills me full of moss
an' mockin' birds in equal parts. I reads deep of _Walter Scott_ an'
waxes to be a sharp on Moslems speshul. I dreams of the Siege of Acre,
an' Richard the Lion Heart; an' I simply can't sleep nights for honin'
to hold a tournament an' joust a whole lot for some fair lady's love.

"'Once I commits the error of my career by joustin' with my brother
Jeff. This yere Jeff is settin' on the bank of the Branch fishin' for
bullpouts at the time, an' Jeff don't know I'm hoverin' near at all.
Jeff's reedic'lous fond of fishin'; which he'd sooner fish than read
_Paradise Lost_. I'm romancin' along, sim'larly bent, when I notes
Jeff perched on the bank. To my boyish imagination Jeff at once turns
to be a Paynim. I drops my bait box, couches my fishpole, an' emittin'
a impromptoo warcry, charges him. It's the work of a moment; Jeff's
onhossed an' falls into the Branch.