"Where the devil, old fellow, have you been hiding yourself? I've been hunting you some time. A little _cut_, I suppose: never mind, my boy, you'll be better presently. Here's glorious sport on foot; don't you hear the war-cry?" At this moment a buzz of distant voices broke upon the ear like the mingled shouts of an election tumult. "There they are, old fellow: come, buckle on your armour--we must try your mettle to-night. All the university are out--a glorious row--come along, no shirking---the _togati_ against the town raff--remember the sacred cause, my boy." And in this way, spite of all remonstrance, was I dragged through the lane and enlisted with the rest of my companions into a corps of university men who were just forming themselves in the High-street to repel the daring attack of the very scum of the city, who had ill-treated and beaten some gownsmen in the neighbourhood of St. Thomas's, and had the temerity to follow and assail them in their retreat to the High-street with every description of villanous epithet, and still more offensive and destructive missiles. "Stand fast there, old fellows," said Echo; who, although _devilishly cut_, seemed to be the leader of the division. "Where's old Mark Supple?" "Here I am sir, _take notice_" said the old scout, who appeared as active as ~250~~an American rifleman. "Will Peake send us the bludgeons?" "He won't open his doors, sir, for anybody, _take notice_." "Then down with the Mitre, my hearties;" and instantly a rope was thrown across the _bishop's cap_ by old Mark, and the tin sign, lamp, and all came tumbling into the street, smashed into a thousand pieces. PEAKE (looking out of an upper window in his night-cap). Doey be quiet, and go along, for God's zake, gentlemen! I shall be _ruinated and discommoned_ if I open my door to any body. TOM ECHO. You infernal old fox-hunter! if you don't doff your knowledge bag and come to the door, we'll mill all your glaze, burst open your gates, and hamstring all your horses. MRS. PEAKE (in her night-gown). Stand out of the way, Peake; let me speak to the gentlemen. Gentlemen, doey, gentlemen, consider my reputation, and the reputation of ray house. O dear, gentlemen, doey go somewhere else--we've no sticks here, I azzure ye, and we're all in bed. Doey go, gentlemen, pray do. TRANSIT. Dame Peake, if you don't open your doors directly, we'll break them open, and unkennel that old bagg'd fox, your husband, and drink all the black strap in your cellar, and--and play the devil with the maids. MRS. PEAKE. Don'te say so, don'te say so, Mr. Transit; I know you to be a quiet, peaceable gentleman, and I am zure you will befriend me: doey persuade 'em to go away, pray do, ~251~~ MARK SUPPLE. Dame Peake MRS. PEAKE. Oh, Mr. Mark Supple, are you there I talk to the gentlemen, Mr. Mark, pray do.