g closely cropped; the forehead was rather high, but somewhat
narrow; the face neither broad nor sharp, perhaps rather sharp than
broad; the nose was almost delicate; the eyes were grey, with an
expression in which there was sternness blended with something
approaching to feline; his complexion was exceedingly pale, relieved,
however, by certain pock-marks, which here and there studded his
countenance; his form was athletic, but lean; his arms long. In the
whole appearance of the man there was a blending of the bluff and the
sharp. You might have supposed him a bruiser; his dress was that of one
in all its minutiae; something was wanting, however, in his manner--the
quietness of the professional man; he rather looked like one performing
the part--well--very well--but still performing a part. His
companion!--there, indeed, was the bruiser--no mistake about him: a tall
massive man, with a broad countenance and a flattened nose; dressed like
a bruiser, but not like a bruiser going into the ring; he wore
white-topped boots, and a loose brown jockey coat.

As the first advanced towards the table, behind which the magistrate sat,
he doffed a white castor from his head, and made rather a genteel bow;
looking at me, who sat somewhat on one side, he gave a kind of nod of
recognition.

'May I request to know who you are, gentlemen?' said the magistrate.

'Sir,' said the man in a deep, but not unpleasant voice, 'allow me to
introduce to you my friend, Mr. ---, the celebrated pugilist'; and he
motioned with his hand towards the massive man with the flattened nose.

'And your own name, sir?' said the magistrate.

'My name is no matter,' said the man; 'were I to mention it to you, it
would awaken within you no feeling of interest. It is neither Kean nor
Belcher, and I have as yet done nothing to distinguish myself like either
of those individuals, or even like my friend here. However, a time may
come--we are not yet buried; and whensoever my hour arrives, I hope I
shall prove myself equal to my destiny, however high--

'Like bird that's bred amongst the Helicons.'

And here a smile half theatrical passed over his features.

'In what can I oblige you, sir?' said the magistrate.

'Well, sir; the soul of wit is brevity; we want a place for an
approaching combat between my friend here and a brave from town. Passing
by your broad acres this fine morning we saw a pightle, which we deemed
would suit. Lend us that pightle