ld his slim
champion be discomfited by the tremendous Knight of Donnerblitz. "Go
it!" said he, flinging his truncheon into the ditch; and at the word,
the two warriors rushed with whirling rapidity at each other.

And now ensued a combat so terrible, that a weak female hand, like that
of her who pens this tale of chivalry, can never hope to do justice to
the terrific theme. You have seen two engines on the Great Western
line rush past each other with a pealing scream? So rapidly did the two
warriors gallop towards one another; the feathers of either streamed
yards behind their backs as they converged. Their shock as they met was
as that of two cannon-balls; the mighty horses trembled and reeled with
the concussion; the lance aimed at the Rowski's helmet bore off the
coronet, the horns, the helmet itself, and hurled them to an incredible
distance: a piece of the Rowski's left ear was carried off on the point
of the nameless warrior's weapon. How had he fared? His adversary's
weapon had glanced harmless along the blank surface of his polished
buckler; and the victory so far was with him.

The expression of the Rowski's face, as, bareheaded, he glared on his
enemy with fierce bloodshot eyeballs, was one worthy of a demon. The
imprecatory expressions which he made use of can never be copied by a
feminine pen.

His opponent magnanimously declined to take advantage of the opportunity
thus offered him of finishing the combat by splitting his opponent's
skull with his curtal-axe, and, riding back to his starting-place, bent
his lance's point to the ground, in token that he would wait until the
Count of Eulenschreckenstein was helmeted afresh.

"Blessed Bendigo!" cried the Prince, "thou art a gallant lance: but why
didst not rap the Schelm's brain out?"

"Bring me a fresh helmet!" yelled the Rowski. Another casque was brought
to him by his trembling squire.

As soon as he had braced it, he drew his great flashing sword from his
side, and rushed at his enemy, roaring hoarsely his cry of battle. The
unknown knight's sword was unsheathed in a moment, and at the next the
two blades were clanking together the dreadful music of the combat!

The Donnerblitz wielded his with his usual savageness and activity.
It whirled round his adversary's head with frightful rapidity. Now it
carried away a feather of his plume; now it shore off a leaf of his
coronet. The flail of the thrasher does not fall more swiftly upon the
corn. For many