the most astute student of Lavater. “Blow my dickey!” exclaimed the Commissary, “so I’m to act as a special, am I?” “This bangs Bannagher!” said Spring, looking as black with his right eye as if he had knocked it against Caunt’s fist. Parley, however, was out of the question, for Captain Robinson said his own reputation as well as his appointment were at stake. A belief existing that Captain Robinson would be content with preserving the peace of his own county, Essex, a resolution was formed to try Cambridgeshire once more. “Bock agin, Sandy,” was the cry; and away went the pioneers of the Ring through the lower part of Royston, on the road towards Bedfordshire, where fresh ground was sought. But a new beak was started from his lair on the road, in the form of a Royston banker, who peremptorily said it should be “no go.” Some disposition arose to question this gentleman’s authority in Cambridgeshire; but all argument was at an end on the arrival of Captain Robinson with his assistants. He plainly told the assemblage that it was in vain for them to attempt getting the fight off in Hertfordshire, Essex, Cambridgeshire, or Bedfordshire, for he was empowered to act in all, and must stick by them till night if they remained. This was conclusive. “To the right about,” was the word, and away all returned to Royston. There was some talk of stopping all night, to fight the first thing in the morning, to which the Slasher said he was agreeable; but a gentle whisper having been given that if the belligerents stopped longer in that neighbourhood the warrants might be enforced against them, a general retreat was ordered, and away the Cockney division scampered――Broome, with the Slasher, back to Chesterford, from whence they had had their last relay of horses――and Spring, Freeman, and friends, by Buntingford to London. All were too late for the trains, and thus many remained on the road all night, while others did not reach “the village” till a late hour. Again were hundreds collected in front of Spring and Broome’s houses to know the result, among whom conflicting accounts were afloat till the authentic courier arrived and diffused fresh dissatisfaction. The chances, changes, and fortunes of this incongruous match were thus sung in some contemporary verses, of sufficient merit to warrant their preservation. THE UNFINISHED FIGHT OF THE AMERICAN GIANT AND THE TIPTON SLASHER. Freeman, of giant frame! to thee a welcome warm we gave, When wafted to the British shores across the Atlantic wave; In harmony we saw thee move with gallant champion Caunt, As muscular as Hercules, and tall as John of Gaunt. We hail’d thee of thy countrymen the model and the flower, And modest was thy bearing, though possessed of giant power; Against thee Slander never dar’d her poisoned tongue to wag, And never was it thine to bounce, to bluster, or to brag.