poked his way
home, though of a different description. "Now blister my kidneys," said
he, slapping his thigh, "but I'll sarve him out! I'll baste him as
Randall did ugly Borrock. I'll knock him about as Belcher did the Big
Ilkey Pigg. I'll damage his mug as Turner did Scroggins's. I'll fib him
till he's as black as Agamemnon--for I do feel as though I could fight a
few."

* * * * *

The massive folding doors of the Porte-Cocher at the Hotel d'Hollande
had not received their morning opening, when a tremendous loud, long,
protracted rat-tat-tat-tat-tan, sounded like thunder throughout the
extensive square, and brought numerous nightcapped heads to the windows,
to see whether the hotel was on fire, or another revolution had broken
out. The _maitre d'hotel_ screamed, the porter ran, the _chef de
cuisine_ looked out of his pigeon-hole window, and the _garcons_
and male _femmes des chambres_ rushed into the yard, with fear and
astonishment depicted on their countenances, when on peeping through the
grating of the little door, Mr. Jorrocks was descried, knocker in hand,
about to sound a second edition. Now, nothing is more offensive to the
nerves of a Frenchman than a riotous knock, and the impertinence was not
at all migitated by its proceeding from a stranger who appeared to have
arrived through the undignified medium of a co-cou.[23] Having scanned
his dimensions and satisfied himself that, notwithstanding all the
noise, Jorrocks was mere mortal man, the porter unbolted the door,
and commenced a loud and energetic tirade of abuse against "Monsieur
Anglais," for his audacious thumping, which he swore was enough to make
every man of the National Guard rush "to arms." In the midst of the
torrent, very little of which Mr. Jorrocks understood, the Yorkshireman
appeared, whom he hurried into the _co-cou_, bundled in after him, cried
"ally!" to the driver, and off they jolted at a miserably slow trot.
A little before seven they reached the village of Passy, where it
was arranged they should meet and proceed from thence to the Bois de
Boulogne, to select a convenient place for the fight; but neither the
confectioner nor his second, nor any one on his behalf, was visible and
they walked the length and breadth of the village, making every possible
inquiry without seeing or hearing anything of them. At length, having
waited a couple of hours, Mr. Jorrocks's appetite overpowered his desire
of revenge, a