The hostile encounter may be supposed to have originated, and to proceed in the following manner. The parties are at first engaged in that particular game at marbles technically termed "shoot ring." Tater. "Now then, Spicy, knuckle down; 'fend dribbling." Spicy. "Come, then, stand out of the sunshine." Tater. "In! Three clayers and a alley. Game! Hooray!" Spicy. "Oh ah! I dare say. It's no go; play agin." Tater. "No, no, it's my game." Spicy. "I say t'an't." Tater. "I say 'tis." Spicy. "You'm a story!" Tater. "Y ou'm another!" Spicy. "Come, give me my alley, will yer?" Tater. "No I sharn't!" Spicy. "Won't yer though?" Tater. "No I won't, frizzle wig!" Spicy. "Won't yer, puggy nose? Come, I say, leave go!" (Here a scuffle ensues.) Tater. "Don't yer wish yer may get it?" Spicy. "You'm a strong feller, arn't you?" Tater. "D 'ye think I'm afeard o' you?" Spicy. "D 'ye think I'm afeard o' you then?" Tater. "Ah! jist you hit me!" Spicy. "You hit me first; that's all!" Tater. "Well, there then!" Spicy. "Here's at yer!" (The contest now commences.) Cries of "Hallo! here's a mill!" "Here's a scrimmage!" "A battle, a battle! 'tween two sticks and a rotten apple!" &c. from various quarters. (A ring formed.) Butcher Boy. "Now then! Fair play! fair play! Go it!" A Boy. "'It im ard; he've got no friends." Second Boy. "Give it im, Spicy! 'It im a peg in the mouth!" Third Boy. "At im, Tater!" Charity Boy. "Fetch im a wipe 'tween the heyes!" Butcher Boy. "Well done, little un, great un's biggest!" First Boy. "Well done, Tater! My eye wot a whop!" Second Boy. "Brayvo! Spicy. Had im there!" Hackney Coachman. "A nasty vun, that ere!" Cabman. "Rayther." Charity Boy. "Go in at im, Tater,--that's it!" (The combatants close and wrestle. Both fall; Spicy under. At this stage of the proceedings a sanguine stream is seen escaping from Spicy's nose; his eyes, too, are in a state of incipient tumefaction. The size of Tater's lip appears considerably augmented; and he bleeds copiously at the mouth. After a short pause, hostilities are resumed.) Butcher Boy. "That's the time o' day. 'It im, Spicy! Skiver im, Tater. That's it, my cocks!" Third Boy. "One for his nob! That's the ticket!" Charity Boy. "Under the ribs! Well done!" First Boy. "That's a vinder for im!" Third Boy. "Tater, keep your pecker up, old chap!" Butcher Boy. "Right and left! Hooroar! Fake away!" All science is now abandoned, and they rush together, pell-mell; but in the heat of the conflict a Policeman appears, and advancing to the scene of action, separates, with some difficulty, the incensed opponents. After a little additional altercation, they are persuaded to shake hands, and each gathering up his cap from the field of battle, returns home, accompanied by his partisans, the victory remaining undecided.