“I am blooded fifty ounces a month, but the more I take the more I make. You wouldn’t think, to look at us, Tregellis, that we could do what we have done. We’ve had some days and nights together, Charlie!” Fox smiled and shook his head. “You remember how we posted to Newmarket before the races. We took a public coach, Tregellis, clapped the postillions into the rumble, and jumped on to their places. Charlie rode the leader and I the wheeler. One fellow wouldn’t let us through his turnpike, and Charlie hopped off and had his coat off in a minute. The fellow thought he had to do with a fighting man, and soon cleared the way for us.” “By the way, sir, speaking of fighting men, I give a supper to the Fancy at the Waggon and Horses on Friday next,” said my uncle. “If you should chance to be in town, they would think it a great honour if you should condescend to look in upon us.” “I’ve not seen a fight since I saw Tom Tyne, the tailor, kill Earl fourteen years ago. I swore off then, and you know me as a man of my word, Tregellis. Of course, I’ve been at the ringside _incog._ many a time, but never as the Prince of Wales.” “We should be vastly honoured if you would come _incog._ to our supper, sir.” “Well, well, Sherry, make a note of it. We’ll be at Carlton House on Friday. The Prince can’t come, you know, Tregellis, but you might reserve a chair for the Earl of Chester.” “Sir, we shall be proud to see the Earl of Chester there,” said my uncle. “By the way, Tregellis,” said Fox, “there’s some rumour about your having a sporting bet with Sir Lothian Hume. What’s the truth of it?” “Only a small matter of a couple of thous to a thou, he giving the odds. He has a fancy to this new Gloucester man, Crab Wilson, and I’m to find a man to beat him. Anything under twenty or over thirty-five, at or about thirteen stone.” “You take Charlie Fox’s advice, then,” cried the Prince. “When it comes to handicapping a horse, playing a hand, matching a cock, or picking a man, he has the best judgment in England. Now, Charlie, whom have we upon the list who can beat Crab Wilson, of Gloucester?” I was amazed at the interest and knowledge which all these great people showed about the ring, for they not only had the deeds of the principal men of the time—Belcher, Mendoza, Jackson, or Dutch Sam—at their fingers’ ends, but there was no fighting man so obscure that they did not know the details of his deeds and prospects. The old ones and then the young were discussed—their weight, their gameness, their hitting power, and their constitution. Who, as he saw Sheridan and Fox eagerly arguing as to whether Caleb Baldwin, the Westminster costermonger, could hold his own with Isaac Bittoon, the Jew, would have guessed that the one was the deepest political philosopher in Europe, and that the other would be remembered as the author of the wittiest comedy and of the finest speech of his generation?