ring of men watching the performances, and talking,
each and all of them, not to his neighbour, or to himself, but to the
ambient air, in the most unintelligible Devonshire jargon, rendered
somewhat more barbarous than usual by intoxication. Frequently one of
them would address one of the players in language more forcible than
choice, as he applauded some piece of FINESSE, or condemned some
clumsiness on the part of the two youths who were struggling about in
the centre, under the impression they were wrestling. There were but
two moderate wrestlers in the parish, and those two were George Hawker
and James Stockbridge. And James and myself had hardly arrived on the
ground two minutes, before George, coming up, greeted us.

After a few common-place civilities, he challenged James to play. "Let
us show these muffs what play is," said he; "it's a disgrace to the
county to see such work."

James had no objection; so, having put on the jackets, they set to work
to the great admiration of the bystanders, one of whom, a drunken
tinker, expressed his applause in such remarkable language that I
mildly asked him to desist, which of course made him worse.

The two wrestlers made very pretty play of it for some time, till
James, feinting at some outlandish manoeuvre, put George on his back by
a simple trip, akin to scholar's-mate at chess.

George fell heavily, for they were both heavy men. He rose from the
ground and walked to where his coat was, sulkily. James thinking he
might have been hurt, went up to speak to him; but the other, greeting
him with an oath, turned and walked away through the crowd.

He was in a furious passion, and he went on to the little bridge that
crossed the stream. We saw him standing looking into the water below,
when a short light-looking man came up to him, and having spoken to him
for a few minutes, walked off in the direction of Exeter, at a steady,
rapid pace.

That man was Dick, the companion of Lee, (I knew all this well
afterwards). George was standing as I have described on the bridge,
when he came up to him, and touching him, said:

"I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Hawker."

George turned round, and when he saw who it was, asked, angrily,

"What the--do you want?"

"No offence, sir. You see, I'm in trouble, there's a warrant out
against me, and I must fly. I am as hardup as a poor cove could be; can
you give me a trifle to help me along the road?"

Here was a slice of good luc