ukkeripens--The barouche--The rain-
gushes.

How for everything there is a time and a season, and then how does the
glory of a thing pass from it, even like the flower of the grass. This
is a truism, but it is one of those which are continually forcing
themselves upon the mind. Many years have not passed over my head, yet,
during those which I can recall to remembrance, how many things have I
seen flourish, pass away, and become forgotten, except by myself, who, in
spite of all my endeavours, never can forget anything. I have known the
time when a pugilistic encounter between two noted champions was almost
considered in the light of a national affair; when tens of thousands of
individuals, high and low, meditated and brooded upon it, the first thing
in the morning and the last at night, until the great event was decided.
But the time is past, and many people will say, thank God that it is; all
I have to say is, that the French still live on the other side of the
water, and are still casting their eyes hitherward--and that in the days
of pugilism it was no vain blast to say that one Englishman was a match
for two of t'other race; at present it would be a vain boast to say so,
for these are not the days of pugilism.

But those to which the course of my narrative has carried me were the
days of pugilism; it was then at its height, and consequently near its
decline, for corruption had crept into the ring; and how many things,
states and sects among the rest, owe their decline to this cause! But
what a bold and vigorous aspect pugilism wore at that time! and the great
battle was just then coming off: the day had been decided upon, and the
spot--a convenient distance from the old town; and to the old town were
now flocking the bruisers of England, men of tremendous renown. Let no
one sneer at the bruisers of England--what were the gladiators of Rome,
or the bull-fighters of Spain, in its palmiest days, compared to
England's bruisers? Pity that ever corruption should have crept in
amongst them--but of that I wish not to talk; let us still hope that a
spark of the old religion, of which they were the priests, still lingers
in the breasts of Englishmen. There they come, the bruisers, from far
London, or from wherever else they might chance to be at the time, to the
great rendezvous in the old city; some came one way, some another: some
of tip-top reputation came with peers in their chariots, for glory and
fame are such f