He was somewhat tamed, and then I lifted my hat, so that he could see my close-cropped hair, which was as short as his own, only not for the same reason. "You don't seem to know who I am," I added, hoping he would now take me for a member of the prize-ring. But my appearance did not frighten him. I had nothing but my short-cropped hair to rely on; so in self-defence I had to devise another stratagem. To frighten him one must look the ruffian in the face, or look the ruffian that he was. He continued to abuse me as we passed on our way to the booking-office window, and I have no doubt he and his gang were determined to rob me. One thing was common between us--we had no regard for one another. I now assumed as bold a manner as I could and a rough East End accent. "Look-ee 'ere," said I: "I know you don't keer for me no more 'an I keers for you. I ain't afraid o' no man, and I'll tell you what it is: it's your ignorance of who I am that makes you bold. I know you ain't a bad un with the maulers. Let's have no more nonsense about it here. I'll fight you on Monday week, say, for a hundred a side in the Butts, and we'll post the money at Peter Crawley's next Saturday. What d'ye say to that?" Peter Crawley, whom I have already mentioned as inviting me to breakfast, was like a thunderclap to him. I must be somebody if I knew Peter Crawley, and now he doubtless bethought him of my short hair. I must confess if the fellow had taken me at my word I should have been in as great a funk as he was, but he did not. My challenge was declined. * * * * * A curious incident happened once in the rural district of Saffron Walden. It is a borough no doubt, but it always seemed to me to be too small for any grown-up thing, and its name sounded more like a little flower-bed than anything else. On the occasion of which I speak there was great excitement in the place because they had got a prisoner--an event which baffled the experience of the oldest inhabitant. The Recorder was an elderly barrister, full of pomp and dignity; and, like many of his brother Recorders, had very seldom a prisoner to try. You may therefore imagine with what stupendous importance he was invested when he found that the rural magistrates had committed a little boy for trial for stealing a _ball of twine_. Think of the grand jury filing in to be "charged" by this judicial dignitary. Imagine his charge, his well-chosen sentences in anticipation of the one to come at the end of the sitting. Think of his eloquent disquisition on the law of larceny! It was all there! After the usual proclamation against vice and immorality had been read, and after the grand jury had duly found a true bill, the next thing was to find the prisoner and bring him up for trial.