oppression; but prize-fighters and pugilists are seldom friends to
brutality and oppression; and which is the blackguard, the writer would
ask, he who uses his fists to take his own part, or instructs others to
use theirs for the same purpose, or the being who from envy and malice,
or at the bidding of a malicious scoundrel, endeavours by calumny,
falsehood, and misrepresentation to impede the efforts of lonely and
unprotected genius?

One word more about the race, all but extinct, of the people
opprobriously called prize-fighters. Some of them have been as noble,
kindly men as the world ever produced. Can the rolls of the English
aristocracy exhibit names belonging to more noble, heroic men, than those
who were called respectively Pearce, Cribb, {357a} and Spring? {357b}
Did ever one of the English aristocracy contract the seeds of fatal
consumption by rushing up the stairs of a burning edifice, even to the
topmost garret, and rescuing a woman from seemingly inevitable
destruction? The writer says, No. A woman was rescued from the top of a
burning house, but the man who rescued her was no aristocrat; it was
Pearce, not Percy, who ran up the burning stairs. Did ever one of those
glittering ones save a fainting female from the libidinous rage of six
ruffians? The writer believes not. A woman was rescued from the
libidinous fury of six monsters on --- Down, but the man who rescued her
was no aristocrat; it was Pearce, not Paulet, who rescued the woman, and
thrashed my lord's six gamekeepers--Pearce, whose equal never was, and
probably never will be, found in sturdy combat. Are there any of the
aristocracy of whom it can be said that they never did a cowardly, cruel,
or mean action, and that they invariably took the part of the unfortunate
and weak against cruelty and oppression? As much can be said of Cribb,
of Spring, and the other; but where is the aristocrat of whom as much can
be said? Wellington? Wellington, indeed! A skilful general, and a good
man of valour, it is true, but with that cant word of 'duty' continually
on his lips, did he rescue Ney from his butchers? Did he lend a helping
hand to Warner?

In conclusion, the writer would strongly advise those of his
country-folks who may read his book to have nothing to do with the two
kinds of canting nonsense described above, but in their progress through
life to enjoy as well as they can, but always with moderation, the good
things of this world, to