You-all most likely has missed noticin' it a heap--for I frequent forces myse'f to be gala an' festive in company--but jest the same, deep down onder my belt, I'm bashful.
An' when I'm younger I'm worse.

I'm bashful speshul of girls; for I soon discovers that it's easier to face a gun than a girl, an' the glance of her eye is more terrifyin' than the glimmer of a bowie.
That's the way I feels.

It's a fact; I remembers a time when my mother, gettin' plumb desp'rate over my hoomility, offers me a runnin' hoss if I'd go co't a girl; on which o'casion I feebly urges that I'd rather walk.
"'On the evenin' of this yer dance an' Gander-Pullin' I'm pirootin' about the Center when I meets up with Jule James;--Jule bein' the village belle.

"Goin' to the dance ?" says Jule.

"No," says I.