was suddenly seen to sink to the earth before a
blow of by no means extraordinary power. Time, time! was called; but
there he lay upon the ground apparently senseless, and from thence he did
not lift his head till several seconds after the umpires had declared his
adversary victor.

There were shouts; indeed there's never a lack of shouts to celebrate a
victory, however acquired; but there was also much grinding of teeth,
especially amongst the fighting men from town. 'Tom has sold us,' said
they, 'sold us to the yokels; who would have thought it?' Then there was
fresh grinding of teeth, and scowling brows were turned to the heaven;
but what is this? is it possible, does the heaven scowl too? why, only a
quarter of an hour ago . . . but what may not happen in a quarter of an
hour? For many weeks the weather had been of the most glorious
description, the eventful day, too, had dawned gloriously, and so it had
continued till some two hours after noon; the fight was then over; and
about that time I looked up--what a glorious sky of deep blue, and what a
big fierce sun swimming high above in the midst of that blue; not a
cloud--there had not been one for weeks--not a cloud to be seen, only in
the far west, just on the horizon, something like the extremity of a
black wing; that was only a quarter of an hour ago, and now the whole
northern side of the heaven is occupied by a huge black cloud, and the
sun is only occasionally seen amidst masses of driving vapour; what a
change! but another fight is at hand, and the pugilists are clearing the
outer ring;--how their huge whips come crashing upon the heads of the
yokels; blood flows, more blood than in the fight; those blows are given
with right good-will, those are not sham blows, whether of whip or fist;
it is with fist that grim Shelton strikes down the big yokel; he is
always dangerous, grim Shelton, but now particularly so, for he has lost
ten pounds betted on the brave who sold himself to the yokels; but the
outer ring is cleared: and now the second fight commences; it is between
two champions of less renown than the others, but is perhaps not the
worse on that account. A tall thin boy is fighting in the ring with a
man somewhat under the middle size, with a frame of adamant; that's a
gallant boy! he's a yokel, but he comes from Brummagem, and he does
credit to his extraction; but his adversary has a frame of adamant: in
what a strange light they fight, but who can won