There was a laugh round the Bar, which Cresswell observing, asked what the real reason was. Brown smiled and blushed; nothing would bring him to state plainly what the reason of his application was. At last, however, he stammered,-- "My lord, the fact is I am going to take the first step towards a divorce." The appeal touched the Judge; the reason was sufficient. Every step in a divorce was to be encouraged, especially the first. The application was granted, and Brown was married the next day. CHAPTER XX. THE BRIGHTON CARD-SHARPING CASE. From the courts of justice to the prize-ring is an easy and sometimes pleasant transition, especially in books. I visited from time to time such well-known persons as "Deaf Burke," Nat Langham, "Dutch Sam," and Owen Swift, all remarkable men, with constitutions of iron, and made like perfect models of humanity. Their names are unknown in these days, although in those of the long past gentlemen of the first position were proud of their acquaintance; and these men, although their profession was battering one another, were as little inclined to brutality as any. And when it is remembered that they played their game in accordance with strict rules and on the most scientific principles, it will be seen that cruelty formed no part of their character. The true sportsmen of the period, amongst whom were the highest in the social and political world, took the same interest in contests in the ring as they did on the turf or in the cricket-field, and for the same reason. Whether Jem Mace would beat Tom Sayers had as much interest at fashionable dinner-tables as whether Lord Derby would dispose of Aberdeen or Palmerston. Lords and dukes backed their opinion in thousands, and the bargee and the ostler gave or took the odds according to the tips, in shillings. The gentleman of the long robe, therefore, was not to be supposed as altogether out of his element in sporting circles any more than the gentleman who had not a rag to cover him. Nor was it uncommon to meet what was called the cream of society at the celebrated rendezvous of Ben Caunt, which was the Coach and Horses, St. Martin's Lane, or at the less pretentious resort of the Tipton Slasher; and what will our modern ladies think of their fair predecessors, who in those days witnessed the drawing of a badger or a dog-fight on a Sunday afternoon? All mankind will attend exhibitions of skill and prowess, and although prize-fights are illegal, you never can suppress the spirit which engendered that form of competition.