ut, "Go it, Figs," as there were youths exclaiming, "Go
it, Cuff." At the twelfth round the latter champion was all abroad, as
the saying is, and had lost all presence of mind and power of attack or
defence. Figs, on the contrary, was as calm as a Quaker. His face being
quite pale, his eyes shining open, and a great cut on his under lip
bleeding profusely, gave this young fellow a fierce and ghastly air,
which perhaps struck terror into many spectators. Nevertheless, his
intrepid adversary prepared to close for the thirteenth time.

If I had the pen of a Napier, or a Bell's Life, I should like to describe
this combat properly. It was the last charge of the Guard--(that is, it
_would_ have been, only Waterloo had not yet taken place); it was Ney's
column breasting the hill of La Haye Sainte, bristling with ten thousand
bayonets, and crowned with twenty eagles; it was the shout of the
beef-eating British, as, leaping down the hill, they rushed to hug the
enemy in the savage arms of battle; in other words, Cuff, coming up full
of pluck, but quite reeling and groggy, the Fig-merchant put in his left
as usual on his adversary's nose, and sent him down for the last time.

"I think _that_ will do for him," Figs said, as his opponent dropped as
neatly on the green as I have seen Jack Spot's ball plump into the pocket
at billiards; and the fact is, when time was called, Mr. Reginald Cuff
was not able, or did not choose, to stand up again.

And now all the boys set up such a shout for Figs as would have made you
think he had been their darling champion through the whole battle; and as
absolutely brought Dr. Swishtail out of his study, curious to know the
cause of the uproar. He threatened to flog Figs violently, of course; but
Cuff, who had come to himself by this time, and was washing his wounds,
stood up and said, "It's my fault, sir--not Figs's--not Dobbin's. I was
bullying a little boy; and he served me right." By which magnanimous
speech he not only saved his conqueror a whipping, but got back all his
ascendancy over the boys which his defeat had nearly cost him.

Young Osborne wrote home to his parents an account of the transaction:

* * * * *

SUGARCANE HOUSE, RICHMOND, March 18--

_Dear Mamma_: I hope you are quite well. I should be much obliged
to you to send me a cake and five shillings. There has been a fight here
between Cuff & Dobbin. Cuff, you know, was the Cock of the School.
Th