“Vell, the Eytalian ’e got a touch of the gurgles, an’ ’e shut ’imself right up like a two-foot rule. Then ’e pulled ’imself straight, an’ ’e gave the most awful Glory Allelujah screech as ever you ’eard. Off ’e jumps from the stage an’ down the passage as ’ard as ’is ’oofs would carry ’im. Up jumps the ’ole crowd, and after ’im as ’ard as they could move for laughin’. They vas lyin’ in the kennel three deep all down Tottenham Court road wid their ’ands to their sides just vit to break themselves in two. Vell, ve chased ’im down ’Olburn, an’ down Fleet Street, an’ down Cheapside, an’ past the ’Change, and on all the vay to Voppin’ an’ we only catched ’im in the shippin’ office, vere ’e vas askin’ ’ow soon ’e could get a passage to voreign parts.” There was much laughter and clapping of glasses upon the table at the conclusion of old Buckhorse’s story, and I saw the Prince of Wales hand something to the waiter, who brought it round and slipped it into the skinny hand of the veteran, who spat upon it before thrusting it into his pocket. The table had in the meanwhile been cleared, and was now studded with bottles and glasses, while long clay pipes and tobacco-boxes were handed round. My uncle never smoked, thinking that the habit might darken his teeth, but many of the Corinthians, and the Prince amongst the first of them, set the example of lighting up. All restraint had been done away with, and the prize-fighters, flushed with wine, roared across the tables to each other, or shouted their greetings to friends at the other end of the room. The amateurs, falling into the humour of their company, were hardly less noisy, and loudly debated the merits of the different men, criticizing their styles of fighting before their faces, and making bets upon the results of future matches.