I Pleaded in Terror, Pray, Don't Do It, Sir.

A fearful man, all in coarse gray, with a grey iron on his leg, seized me by the chin. He turned me upside down and emptied my pockets; there was nothing in them but a piece of bread. Darn me if I couldn't eat him, said the man, the threatening shake of his head. And if I hadn't, half a mine, to it. When the church came to itself, I say, I was seated on a high tombstone,. trembling while he ate the bread ravenously. What fat cheeks you got? I believe they were fat. Suppose, and you're kindly let to live, which I had made up my mind about.