e
man had temporarily lost his few wits, that was plain. The combat raged
with undiminished fury. Our clown attacked a student with his bass-drum,
one end of which burst in, imprisoning the representative of the seat of
learning, who found it impossible to extricate himself from his musical
predicament. Sam Palmer, with his fish-horn, did tremendous execution;
while Jack Adams was equally effective with his dinner-bell which, at
every blow, sounded forth a note of warning. The heroic P. Jones
performed prodigies of valor, and covered himself with glory. This
wonderful young man, having planted himself behind a rampart of chairs,
placed himself in the position of a pugilistic frog, and boldly defied
his enemies to "come on and be punched." At the commencement of the
fight, Abbott coiled himself up under the table, and was seen no more;
while Handiboe fled for safety to the cole-hole. The battle was at its
height, and the bird of victory seemed about to perch upon the banner of
the "Uncles and Nephews," when some reckless, hardened individual turned
off the gas, thus producing total darkness. This made matters ten times
worse than ever, for it was impossible to distinguish friends from foes.
Suddenly, in rushed a posse of watchmen, headed by the renowned Marshal
Tukey, and bearing torches. Many of the combatants were arrested, and
but few contrived to make their escape. I had the honor of figuring
among the unlucky ones; and, with my companions passed the night in
durance vile. In the morning, when day light feebly penetrated our
gloomy dungeon, what a strange-looking spectacle presented itself!
Stretched upon the floor in every imaginable picturesque attitude, were
about a score of men, the majority of them arrayed in the soiled and
torn theatrical dresses. These unhappy individuals afforded a most
melancholy sight, as many of them had black eyes, bruised noses and
battered visages.

"D----d pretty fools we've made of ourselves," said Macbeth, one of
whose optics had been highly discolored.

"Yes," groaned Othello, whose black eyes were only partially concealed
by the yellow color which he had smeared over his face--"and here we are
in the jug, where we shall be compelled to remain all day, and lose all
the fun of the Fourth of July."

"That isn't the worst of it," sighed Hamlet, whose royal frontispiece
had received severe damage--"I am on the bills to play twice this
afternoon and once this evening, and my being abs