was no remedy, and on they went till the desired goal was reached. On the road there were some few mishaps, but still all were cheered on by hope. The Commissary lost no time in examining the intended field of battle, which he found swampy, and far from desirable; but there was no help for it, and he was about to form a ring when a fresh alarm was given. The Sawbridgeworth police superintendent and Mr. Phillips, the magistrate, once more presented their ill-omened countenances, and plainly declared their determination to prevent the fight taking place either in Essex or Hertfordshire This was a poser. A council of war was held――suggestions of all sorts were offered, and a great deal of time was lost. Cambridgeshire, the adjoining county, was deemed too distant to be reached in time, and more especially by the pedestrians; and at last it was determined to “try back,” and return towards London; Broxbourne, on the borders of Middlesex and Essex, being agreed on as the point of re-assemblage. This point settled, a general move took place towards the nearest stations――the toddlers to Sawbridgeworth, and the charioteers to Bishop Stortford, there to repack their nags and drags, while the beak and his co-partner, considering that a move had been made to get out of their bailiwick, also moved off. On reaching Bishop Stortford a fresh resolution was formed. “While the cat’s away the mice will play;” so, as the conservators of propriety were no longer present, it was urged that the ring might be formed in the place originally intended, half a mile from the Sawbridgeworth station, not far from the same field in which Turner beat Scroggins, in June, 1817, and scarcely more distant from the scene of Oliver’s conquest over Shelton, in 1820. No sooner said than done; and, in the absence of those who had promised to avoid the county of Hertford, at half-past two o’clock all agreed to drop down to the place from whence they came, with the exception of the Commissary, Freeman, and his friends, who took the main road in a carriage kindly yielded to them by the Right Rev. the Bishop of Bond Street, who also hospitably furnished their larders with a very welcome supply of roast fowls and other “combustibles,” of which their “inward men” stood beseechingly in need. In the interim the Slasher threw himself on a bed at Bishop Stortford, and all who had wisdom took some hasty refreshment. On again reaching Sawbridgeworth we were informed that the lists were formed, and a competent guide being found, all set out along the towing-path of the canal to a very eligible site, about half a mile off, on an elevated piece of ground admirably calculated for the purpose. The evening was now fast approaching, for it was nearly four o’clock, and it was hoped there would be still daylight sufficient to decide which was the better man. The privilege tickets were distributed, and in a short time everything was arranged for the commencement of hostilities.