He delivered a treatise on the art of prizefighting, and he did something else which I found more amusing--he told me his name.

To my small sense of humor his name, so to speak, completed this delightfully odd man: it was Gloody.

As to the list of his misfortunes, the endless length of it became so unendurably droll, that we both indulged in unfeeling fits of laughter over the sorrows of Gloody.

The first lucky accident of the poor fellow's life had been, literally, the discovery of him by his present master.
This event interested me.

I said I should like to hear how it had happened.
Gloody modestly described himself as "one of the starving lot, sir, that looks out for small errands.