Now I could see well enough why the parsons don’t like these games. It gave me a turn, to watch the faces round the stage getting savage, and I could see what it might soon get to if there was much of this wild work. And there were Master George, and the two Oxford scholars, at the opposite corner of the stage, shouting till they were hoarse for old Seeley, and as savage and wicked-looking as any of the men round them; setting such a bad example, too, as I thought,--whereas it didn’t matter for a fellow like me, who was nobody,--so I shouted, and threw my coppers to old Seeley, and felt as wild as any of them, I do believe. Three bouts, four bouts pass; Harry’s stick gets in oftener and oftener. Has the fellow no blood in him? There it comes at last! In the fifth bout, Harry’s stick goes flashing in again, a fair down blow from the wrist, which puts the matter beyond all question, as the Somersetshire man staggers back across the stage, the blood streaming from under his hair. Loud are the shouts which greet the fine-tempered old gamester, as he pulls on his velveteen coat, and gets down from the stage. “Why, Harry, thou’dst broke his yead second bout, mun, surely!” shout his admirers. “No,” says Harry, dogmatically, “you see, mates, there’s no ’cumulation of blood belongs to thay cider-drinking chaps, as there does to we as drinks beer. Besides, thay drinks vinegar allus for a week afore playin’, which dries up most o’ the blood as they _has_ got; so it takes a ’mazin’ sight of cloutin’ to break their yeads as should be.” After this bout all the other play seemed to be tasteless; so, promising myself to come back and see the ties played off, (unless Miss Lucy turned up in the mean time, in which case I shouldn’t have dared to go near the stage, and in fact I felt rather nervous already, lest she should have seen or heard of me there,) I marched off, and joined the crowd which was collecting round the jingling ring. That crowd was one of the pleasantest sights of the whole day. The jingling match seemed a very popular sport, especially with the women. There they were, of all ranks--for I’m certain I saw some young ladies in riding habits, and others in beautiful muslins, whom I, and Jem Fisher, and little Neddy have often seen riding with very great people in the Park, when we have managed to get down to Rotten Row on summer evenings--seated on the grass or standing round the ring, in all sorts of dresses, from fine silks down to cottons at 2_d._ a yard, and all looking pleasant and good-tempered, and as if they were quite used to being mixed up like this every day--which I’m sure I wish they were, for my part, especially if the men were allowed to join in the crowd too, as we were round the jingling ring. For there were gentlemen, both parsons and others, and farmers, and ploughboys, and all manner of other men and boys.