About three o’clock in the afternoon, Hickman, with his backer and Spring, in a barouche and four, with Shelton outside, drove rapidly through the town, the Gas-light Man laughing and bowing, on being recognised and cheered by the populace, till they alighted at the Castle, Speen Hill. Here he was visited by numerous gentlemen, to all of whom he declared his confidence of success, and that victory would crown his efforts in a short time. After the bustle of the day was over, the President of the Daffy Club took the chair at the Three Tuns, in the Market Place, Newbury, which, as soon as the office had been given, became the head quarters. Thither the swells and the sporting men mustered round the holder of the stakes. It was a complete betting stand, and numerous wagers were made on the coming event. In consequence of the Newmarket people, with Mr. Gully and Mr. Bland at their head, taking Neat, the odds fell on the Gas: a few persons who were funking a little got off some of their money, but the principal part of the fancy stood firm, and many of them laid it on thicker, although Mr. Gully, in the most candid manner, declared his opinion, “that if a fine, young, strong, fourteen stone man could not defeat a twelve stone boxer, then there was no calculation on prize milling.” Tuesday morning, long before the darkness had cleared off, presented a scene to the Johnny Raws, in the numerous arrivals from London, most of them having been on the road all night, with their peepers half open and their tits almost at a stand-still. About ten o’clock Newbury presented an interesting appearance. The inhabitants were all out of doors; the windows of the houses crowded with females, anxiously waiting to witness the departure of the fancy to the mill. Indeed it was a lively picture—barouches and four, curricles, post-chaises, gigs, carts, stage coaches, wagons, myriads of yokels on horseback, chawbacons scampering along the road, Corinthians and bang-up lads tooling it along.