oung lord named Bob Burleigh, was president of the club, while Mat
Monmouth was the spokesman, who called on the various students and actors
to entertain the town roysters who dropped in to see the free and easy
celebration of the football victory.

While drowning our grief and loneliness in pewter pots of ale at a side
table, in a snug corner, who should slap William on the shoulder but Ned
Sadler, our old schoolmate from Stratford. Ned was a jolly rake, and had
been in London sporting with theatrical companies, and, as a citizen of the
world, was perfectly at home wherever night overtook him.

At the height of the college banquet Mat Monmouth announced that the
president of the Cambridge Boxing Club had just challenged the president of
the Oxford Club to fight, under the King's rule, for a purse of twenty
guineas.

A wild cheer rent the room, and instanter the chairs and tables were pushed
aside, when Dick Milton and Jack Norfolk stepped into the improvised prize
ring, made by the circling arms of the students.

Five rounds with gloves were to be fought, and the champion who knocked out
his opponent three times, should be the victor.

Dick Milton, the Cambridge athlete, when "time" was called, rushed on Jack
Norfolk, the Oxford man, with a blow that sent him over the circling arms
and into the chairs.

Score one for Dick.

Time was called, and Jack, although a little dazed, leaped at his opponent,
who dodged the rush, and with a quick turn got in a left-hander on Jack's
neck, and pastured him again among the yelling bloods.

Score two for Dick.

When time was called for the third round, the Oxford man looked bleary and
tremulous, but with that bull-dog courage that never deserts an Englishman,
he threw himself on the Cambridge man with great force and both went down
with a crash.

Dick shook his opponent off like a terrier would a rat, and standing erect
at the end of the room, waited for the call of time.

Jack Norfolk did not respond to the call.

Score three for Dick. Victory!

Then the yell of the Cambridge students could be heard among the turrets
and gables of classic Oxford, a recompense for their defeat at the
afternoon football game.

Dick Milton, flushed with wine and victory, held aloft the purse of
guineas, and challenged any man in the room to fight him three rounds.

There seemed to be no immediate response, but I noticed a flush in the face
of William, who modestly rose in his six-foot