n you won't fight?' said I.

'Not for the Pope,' said the Radical; 'I'll see the Pope--'

'Dear me!' said I, 'not fight for the Pope, whose religion you would turn
to, if you were inclined for any. I see how it is, you are not fond of
fighting; but I'll give you another chance--you were abusing the Church
of England just now: I'll fight for it--will you fight against it?'

'Come, Hunter,' said the other, 'get up, and fight against the Church of
England.'

'I have no particular quarrel against the Church of England,' said the
man in the snuff-coloured coat, 'my quarrel is with the aristocracy. If
I said anything against the Church, it was merely for a bit of corollary,
as Master William Cobbett would say; the quarrel with the Church belongs
to this fellow in black, so let him carry it on. However,' he continued
suddenly, 'I won't slink from the matter either; it shall never be said
by the fine fellows on the quay of New York that I wouldn't fight against
the Church of England. So down with the beggarly aristocracy, the
Church, and the Pope to the bottom of the pit of Eldon, and may the Pope
fall first, and the others upon him.'

Thereupon, dashing his hat on the table, he placed himself in an attitude
of offence and rushed forward. He was, as I have said before, a powerful
fellow, and might have proved a dangerous antagonist, more especially to
myself, who, after my recent encounter with the Flaming Tinman, and my
wrestlings with the evil one, was in anything but fighting order. Any
collision, however, was prevented by the landlord, who, suddenly
appearing, thrust himself between us. 'There shall be no fighting here,'
said he; 'no one shall fight in this house, except it be with myself; so
if you two have anything to say to each other, you had better go into the
field behind the house. But, you fool,' said he, pushing Hunter
violently on the breast, 'do you know whom you are going to tackle
with?--this is the young chap that beat Blazing Bosville, only as late as
yesterday, in Mumpers' Dingle. Grey Moll told me all about it last
night, when she came for some brandy for her husband, who, she said, had
been half killed; and she described the young man to me so closely that I
knew him at once, that is, as soon as I saw how his left hand was
bruised, for she told me he was a left-hand hitter. Aren't it all true,
young man? Aren't you he that beat Flaming Bosville, in Mumpers'
Dingle?' 'I never beat Flaming Bo