dual (who, the reader
need scarcely be told, was no other than our eccentric friend, the
Corporal,) did not tamely submit to such rough treatment; extricating
himself, with much agility, from the grasp of the Jew, he dealt that
worthy such a quick and stinging blow in the region of his left ear,
that it laid him sprawling on the floor, at the same moment exclaiming--

"Skulls and skeletons! do you take me for a child? Nay, come on again,
if you are so disposed, and by the nose of Napoleon! I'll beat you to a
jelly!"

It is difficult to say what might have been the fate of the gallant
Corporal, had a second encounter taken place, for the Jew arose from the
floor with a howl of rage, his dark face livid with passion. But,
fortunately for our friend, at this crisis there stepped forward a big,
brawny, double-jointed Irishman, with a fist like a shoulder of mutton;
this gentleman gloried in the title of 'Cod-mouth Pat,' in humorous
allusion to the peculiar formation of his 'potato trap,' an aperture in
his head which might have been likened either to a cellar door or a coal
scuttle.

"Och, be the powers, Misther Jew Mike," said Pat, placing himself
between the Corporal and his gigantic antagonist--"be asy, and lave the
owld gintlman alone; he's a brave little man intirely, and it's myself
that'll fight for him. Whoop! show me the man that 'od harm my friend,
and be the holy poker, and that's a good oath, I'll raise a lump on his
head as big as the hill of Howth, and that's no small one!"

The good-hearted Irishman's interference saved the Corporal from a
severe beating, if not from being killed outright--for the Jew dared not
engage in a personal conflict with a man of Pat's resolution and
strength. Yet any ordinary observer could not have failed to notice the
look of deadly vengeance that gleamed in his eyes, indicating that he
would not soon forget or forgive the blow he had received.

At that moment, a loud noise resembling the crash of decanters and
glasses, mingled with loud oaths and yells of defiance, which sounds
proceeded from the adjoining dance cellar, plainly indicated that one of
those "bloody rows" for which Ann street is famous, had commenced. Such
a scene was too much the element of Cod-mouth Pat for him to remain
tranquil during its progress; with an unearthly yell he grasped a short,
thick cudgel which he always carried, and leaving the "Pig Pen," plunged
into the thickest of the fight. Many a black e