Molloy, D. D.; the rev. P. J. Kavanagh, C. S.
Sp.; the rev. T. Waters, C. C.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P. P.; the rev.
P. J. Cleary, O. S. F.; the rev. L. J. Hickey, O. P.; the very rev. Fr.
Nicholas, O. S. F. C.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O. D. C.; the rev. T.
Maher, S. J.; the very rev. James Murphy, S. J.; the rev. John Lavery,
V. F.; the very rev. William Doherty, D. D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.
M.; the rev. T. Brangan, O. S. A.; the rev. J. Flavin, C. C.; the
rev. M. A. Hackett, C. C.; the rev. W. Hurley, C. C.; the rt rev. Mgr
M'Manus, V. G.; the rev. B. R. Slattery, O. M. I.; the very rev. M.
D. Scally, P. P.; the rev. F. T. Purcell, O. P.; the very rev. Timothy
canon Gorman, P. P.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C. C. The laity included P.
Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.

--Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, were you at that
Keogh-Bennett match?

--No, says Joe.

--I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.

--Who? Blazes? says Joe.

And says Bloom:

--What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training
the eye.

--Ay, Blazes, says Alf. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up
the odds and he swatting all the time.

--We know him, says the citizen. The traitor's son. We know what put
English gold in his pocket.

---True for you, says Joe.

And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the
blood, asking Alf:

--Now, don't you think, Bergan?

--Myler dusted the floor with him, says Alf. Heenan and Sayers was only
a bloody fool to it. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. See
the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. God,
he gave him one last puck in the wind, Queensberry rules and all, made
him puke what he never ate.

It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled
to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Handicapped as he
was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative
skill in ringcraft. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both
champions. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret
in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of
rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the
pet's nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. The soldier got to
business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish
gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of
Benne