The delicately attenuated nerves of my female reader must be shocked by the transition from the above divine warblers to the horrid Mr. Figg, who fought his 271st battle in October 1730, with a Mr. Holmes, whose wrist he cut to the bone in this _amusing_ description of public entertainment. Master Figg was conqueror in _all_ those conflicts; a tolerable poet, his contemporary, thus celebrated the exploits of the modern Gladiator: "Inspir'd with generous thirst of martial fame Figg's early years presag'd his future name, As Hannibal, ere grown to manhood's bloom, Swore in his blood fell enmity with Rome: Like ardour did our infant Hero grace; Like dire aversion to the Hibernian race. Long in successful fights both champions view'd Their oath accomplish'd and their foes subdu'd; But here th'illustrious parallel must end, } And Afric's warrior to Britannia's bend; } Events unequal their last fights attend, } The former _loses_ what he earn'd before, The _latter_ closes all his past _with one grand triumph more_." As the following advertisement appears to be the _acme_ of absurdity and folly, I think it will very properly close those of the prize-fighting Figgs, &c. "At Mr. Figg's great room to-morrow, the 20th of this instant May, by the command of several noblemen and others, will be shewn in full proof the judgment of the sword in all its noble branches, offensive and defensive. "We Mathew Masterson, Serjeant from Gibraltar, and Rowland Bennet from the city of Dublin in the kingdom of Ireland, masters of the said science, both having lately tasted our error by unwarily receiving wounds from Mr. Figg, and resolving if possible to return the keen rebuke by our chastising swords, make this challenge the hostility of our confederate arms, inviting them to the brightest of their performances, Mr. Figg taking Mr. Gill to his assistance, and fighting us at the time and place above for the benefit of the whole house, which Mr. Masterson and the said Gill are solely to have to themselves; the victor of them two defraying all charges, and taking the surplus to himself as free plunder. It is that makes a soldier a Cæsar or a Marius, without the help of Lilly, who was most unmercifully whipped last Wednesday in quarto by a Yorkshire Jockey with Roman epithets, in order to extort rules for declining a good house in favour of the present tense singular; but the grammatical tit being too high-mettled to be verb-ridden, left his Elorian corrector in an infinitive ill-mood, confounded in particles in search of the great negative--nothing. "MATHEW MASTERSON, ROWLAND BENNET." * * * * *