engaged in, I made
use of what I have called "that old head of mine." I don't know
(and I guess I never will while I'm alive) just how thick my old
skull is; but I do know it must be pretty thick, or it would have
been cracked many years ago, for I have been struck some terrible
blows on my head with iron dray-pins, pokers, clubs, stone-coal,
and bowlders, which would have split any man's skull wide open
unless it was pretty thick. Doctors have often told me that my
skull was nearly an inch in thickness over my forehead. They were
only guessing at it then, of course, but if my dear old mother-in-
law don't guard my grave, they will know after I am dead, sure
enough, for I have heard them say so.

For ten or fifteen years during my early life, the sporting men of
the South tried to find a man to whip me, but they couldn't do it,
and finally gave it up as a bad job. After they gave up trying to
have me whipped, and they knew more about my old head, they would
all go broke that I could whip or kill any man living, white or
black, by butting him. I have had to do some hard butting in my
early days, on account of the reputation I had made for my head.

I am now nearly sixty years of age, and have quit fighting, but I
can to-day batter down any ordinary door or stave in a liquor barrel
with "that old head of mine;" and I don't believe there is a man
living (of near my own age) who can whip me in a rough-and-tumble
fight. I never have my hair clipped short, for if I did I would
be ashamed to take my hat off, as the lines on my old scalp look
about like the railroad map of the State in which I was born.

During the winter of '67 or '68, John Robinson's circus was showing
in New Orleans, and they had with them a man by the name of William
Carroll, whom they advertised as "The man with the thick skull, or
the great butter." He could out-butt anything in the show, except
the elephant. One night after the show, Al. and Gill Robinson were
up town, and their man Carroll was with them. We all met in a
saloon and began drinking wine. While we were enjoying ourselves,
something was said about butting, when Gill spoke up and said
Carroll could kill any man in the world with his head. "Dutch
Jake," one of the big sporting men of New Orleans, was in the party,
and he was up in an instant, and said:

"What's that? I'll bet $1,000 or $10,000 that I can find a man he
can't kill or whip either."

I knew what was up; and as w