there, indeed, was the bruiser--no mistake about him: a tall
massive man, with a broad countenance and a flattened nose; dressed like
a bruiser, but not like a bruiser going into the ring; he wore
white-topped boots, and a loose brown jockey coat.

As the first advanced towards the table, behind which the magistrate sat,
he doffed a white castor from his head, and made rather a genteel bow;
looking at me, who sat somewhat on one side, he gave a kind of nod of
recognition.

"May I request to know who you are, gentlemen?" said the magistrate.

"Sir," said the man in a deep, but not unpleasant voice, "allow me to
introduce to you my friend, Mr. ---, the celebrated pugilist;" and he
motioned with his hand towards the massive man with the flattened nose.

"And your own name, sir?" said the magistrate.

"My name is no matter," said the man; "were I to mention it to you, it
would awaken within you no feeling of interest. It is neither Kean nor
Belcher, and I have as yet done nothing to distinguish myself like either
of those individuals, or even like my friend here. However, a time may
come--we are not yet buried; and whensoever my hour arrives, I hope I
shall prove myself equal to my destiny, however high--

'Like bird that's bred amongst the Helicons.'"

And here a smile half theatrical passed over his features.

"In what can I oblige you, sir?" said the magistrate.

"Well, sir, the soul of wit is brevity; we want a place for an
approaching combat between my friend here and a brave from town. Passing
by your broad acres this fine morning we saw a pightle, which we deemed
would suit. Lend us that pightle, and receive our thanks; 'twould be a
favour, though not much to grant: we neither ask for Stonehenge nor for
Tempe."

My friend looked somewhat perplexed; after a moment, however, he said,
with a firm but gentlemanly air, "Sir, I am sorry that I cannot comply
with your request."

"Not comply!" said the man, his brow becoming dark as midnight; and with
a hoarse and savage tone, "Not comply! why not?"

"It is impossible, sir; utterly impossible!"

"Why so?"

"I am not compelled to give my reasons to you, sir, nor to any man."

"Let me beg of you to alter your decision," said the man, in a tone of
profound respect.

"Utterly impossible, sir; I am a magistrate."

"Magistrate! then fare ye well, for a green-coated buffer and a
Harmanbeck."

"Sir!" said the magistrate, springing up with a face fiery wi