backward movement of the donkey's heels interposes at this moment to
knock Mr. Jinks back to his former position.

But his feet are out of the stirrups, he cannot keep his seat; and
suddenly he feels a hand upon his leg--his enemy glares on him; he is
whirled down to the earth, and O'Brallaghan has caught his prey.

The stormy combat, with its cries, and shouts, and blows, and
imprecations, closes over them, and all seems lost for Jinks.

Not so. When fate seems to lower darkest, sunlight comes. O'Brallaghan
has brought his stalwart fist down on Mr. Jinks' nose but once, has
scarcely caused the "gory blood" of that gentleman to spout forth from
the natural orifices, when a vigorous female hand is laid upon his
collar, and he turns.

It is Mistress O'Calligan Sheeley come to the rescue of her husband.

O'Brallaghan is pulled from Jinks--that hero rises, and attempts to
flee.

He rushes into the arms of another lady, who, in passing near the
crowd, has been caught up like a leaf and buried in the combat--Miss
Sallianna.

But fate is again adverse, though impartial. Mr. Jinks and
O'Brallaghan are felled simultaneously by mighty blows, and the rout
closes over them.

As they fall, a swaying motion in the crowd is felt--the authorities
have arrived--the worn-out combatants draw off, sullenly, and the dead
and wounded only are left upon the field.

The crowd retires--they have had their fight, and broken numerous
heads. They have vindicated the honor of their Saints--to-morrow they
are friends and neighbors again.

One beautiful and touching scene is left for aftertimes--one picture
which even the historic muse might have paused near, and admired.

Two lovely dames contend for the privilege of holding a bloody
warrior's head, whose nose is injured.

It is Mr. Jinks, Miss Judith, and Miss Sallianna.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

THE END OF THE CHAIN.

We are conscious that the description of the great battle just given
is but a poor and lame delineation, and we can only plead defective
powers in that department of art--the treatment of battle-pieces.

We cannot describe the appearance of the battle-field after the
combat, any more than the contest.

Wounded and crack-crowned, groaning and muttering heroes dragging
themselves away--this is the resume which we find it in our power
alone to give.

One hero only seems to be seriously injured.

He is a man of forty-five or fifty, with a heavy black beard, thick