execution of his revenge, pursued the fugitive with all the speed he
could exert; and the other, either unnerved by fear or stumbling over
a stone, was overtaken before he had run a hundred paces. He no sooner
felt the wind of the publican's fist that whistled round his ears, than
he fell flat upon the earth at full length, and the cudgel flew from his
unclasping hand; when Tunley, springing like a tiger on his back, rained
such a shower of blows upon his carcase, that he imagined himself
under the discipline of ten pairs of fists at least; yet the imaginary
cuckold, not satisfied with annoying the priest in this manner, laid
hold of one of his ears with his teeth, and bit so unmercifully, that
the curate was found almost entranced with pain by two labourers, at
whose approach the assailant retreated unperceived.

The lieutenant had posted himself at the window, in order to see the
landlord at his first return: and no sooner perceived him enter the
yard, than he called him into the apartment, impatient to learn the
effects of their stratagem. Tunley obeyed the summons, and appeared
before his guests in all the violence of rage, disorder, and fatigue:
his nostrils were dilated more than one-half beyond their natural
capacity, his eyes rolled, his teeth chattered, he snored in breathing
as if he had been oppressed by the nightmare, and streams of sweat
flowed down each side of his forehead.

Peregrine, affecting to start at the approach of such an uncouth figure,
asked if he had been with a spirit; upon which he answered, with great
vehemence, "Spirit! No, no, master, I have had a roll and tumble with
the flesh. A dog. I'll teach him to come a caterwauling about my doors."
Guessing from this reply, that his aim was accomplished, and curious to
know the particulars of the rencounter, "Well, then," said the youth,
"I hope you have prevailed against the flesh, Tunley."--"Yes, yes,"
answered the publican, "I have cooled his capissens, as the saying is:
I have played such a tune about his ears, that I'll be bound he shan't
long for music this month. A goatish, man-faced rascal! Why, he's a
perfect parish bull, as I hope to live."

Hatchway, observing that he seemed to have made a stout battle, desired
he would sit down and recover wind; and after he had swallowed a brace
of bumpers, his vanity prompted him to expatiate upon his own exploit in
such a manner, that the confederates, without seeming to know the curate
was his a