hich sate a
stout gentleman, who was seemingly a person of importance. Sutton was
speedily followed by the famous Figg, to whom the stout gentleman waved
a hand of approbation. Both men were in their shirts, their heads were
shaven clean, but bore the cracks and scars of many former glorious
battles. On his burly sword-arm, each intrepid champion wore an
"armiger," or ribbon of his colour. And now the gladiators shook
hands, and, as a contemporary poet says: "The word it was bilboe."
[The antiquarian reader knows the pleasant poem in the sixth volume of
Dodsley's Collection, in which the above combat is described.]

At the commencement of the combat the great Figg dealt a blow so
tremendous at his opponent, that had it encountered the other's honest
head, that comely noddle would have been shorn off as clean as the
carving-knife chops the carrot. But Sutton received his adversary's
blade on his own sword, whilst Figg's blow was delivered so mightily
that the weapon brake in his hands, less constant than the heart of
him who wielded it. Other sword were now delivered to the warriors. The
first blood drawn spouted from the panting side of Figg amidst a yell
of delight from Sutton's supporters; but the veteran appealing to his
audience, and especially, as it seemed, to the stout individual in the
private gallery, showed that his sword broken in the previous encounter
had caused the wound.

Whilst the parley occasioned by this incident was going on, Mr.
Warrington saw a gentleman in a riding-frock and plain scratch-wig enter
the box devoted to the stout personage, and recognised with pleasure his
Tunbridge Wells friend, my Lord of March and Ruglen. Lord March, who was
by no means prodigal of politeness seemed to show singular deference to
the stout gentleman, and Harry remarked how his lordship received,
with a profound bow, some bank-bills which the other took out from a
pocket-book and handed to him. Whilst thus engaged, Lord March spied out
our Virginian, and, his interview with the stout personage finished, my
lord came over to Harry's gallery and warmly greeted his young friend.
They sat and beheld the combat waging with various success, but
with immense skill and valour on both sides. After the warriors had
sufficiently fought with swords, they fell to with the quarter-staff,
and the result of this long and delightful battle was, that victory
remained with her ancient champion Figg.

Whilst the warriors were at bat