Langan had always a taste for milling; and his turns up at school (?), says Pierce Egan, would fill a moderate volume. In company with two of his school-fellows, he discovered a bird’s nest; but as the birds were not fledged, it was unanimously agreed to leave it till a more convenient opportunity. The boys played truant one afternoon, and went in search of the bird’s nest, and the eldest lad claimed for his share the top bird, which is generally considered the cock. Langan protested against such choice, and a battle decided it; but, after a fight of an hour’s duration, in which Jack proved the conqueror, the only recompense he got for the scratches and loss of claret, was, upon examining the nest, that the birds had fled during the row. [Illustration: JOHN LANGAN (IRISH CHAMPION). ] On the borders of the Dublin canal, when only thirteen years of age, he thought himself man enough to enter the lists with a strong youth of eighteen years of age; in fact, he stood forward as champion for his friend, who had received a blow from the youth. In forty-five minutes, against weight, length, and height, Langan proved the conqueror. Shortly after the above battle, Jack persuaded his father to let him go to sea, and, ultimately, he was bound apprentice to Messrs. Dunn and Harris, of Dublin. Langan sailed for Oporto and Lisbon, in the New Active, Captain M’Carthy. In Bull Bay, Lisbon, in spite of the stiletto used by two Portuguese, he made the cowards run before him; but Jack received a scratch or two on his body from their knives. His courage, however, did not desert him for an instant, though he was attacked in such an assassin-like manner. On Langan’s passage home, he severely drubbed one of his messmates, of the name of Dunn, who had taken liberties with the fame of Ould Ireland. “Erin-go-Bragh!” said Jack Langan, after giving Mr. Dunn a receipt in full of all demands, then retired to his berth to take his grog, singing— “St. Patrick is still our protector, He made us an Island of Saints, Drove out snakes and toads like a Hector, And ne’er shut his eyes to complaints: Then if you would live and be frisky, And never die when you’re in bed, Arrah! come to Ireland and tipple the whiskey, And live ten years after you’re dead!!!”