"Champion" of his land,
And these were "Trojans all" you'll understand.
(_"Champion be blowed!_" SAYERIUS _said_. _"Wus luck,
They wasn't Trojans. This is British pluck!"_)
Then from the Corner fiendish howls arise,
And oaths and execrations rend the skies.
ENTELLUS stoutly to the fight returned.
Kicked, punched and mauled, his eyes with fury burned,
Disdain and conscious courage fired his breast,
And with redoubled force his foe he pressed,
Laid on with either hand like anything,
And headlong drove his rival round the Ring;
Nor stops nor stays, nor rest, nor breath allows.
Thereon the Corner raised redoubled rows,
Yelled false alarms of "Rescue!" heaved half-bricks,
And murderous missiles and unmanly kicks
Poured on ENTELLUS, whilst fat DARES slunk
Between his bullies, like a shabby skunk.
(_"Bah!" growled_ SAYERIUS. _"Fancy_ CRIBBS _or_ GULLIES
_Backing down under guard of blackguard bullies!"_)
But now the Ref., who saw the row increase,
Declared a "draw," and bade the combat cease.
(_"A draw?"_ SAYERIUS _shouted_. _"Was he drunk?
Or had he, like the rest, a fit of funk?"_)
"This," PUNCHIUS said, "ended the precious game.
In which all, save ENTELLUS, suffered shame.
SAYERIUS mine, I trust you take delight
In this description of a Champion Fight!"

"A _Fight_," SAYERIUS shouted. "Oh, get out!
It was a 'barney.' If this ruffian rout
Of cheats and 'bashers' now surround the Ring,
You'd better stop it as a shameful thing.
In JACKSON'S time, and even in my day,
It did want courage, and did mean fair play--
Most times, at least. But don't mix up _this_ muck
With tales of rough-and-tumble British pluck.
I'd like to shake ENTELLUS by the hand,
And give that DARES--wot he'd understand
Better, you bet, than being fair or "game,"
Or trying to keep up the Old Country's name!
But anyhow, if Boxing's sunk so low
As _this_, why, hang it, PUNCHIUS, _let it go!"_
Said _Punch_, as from the Elysian Fields he strode,
"If you're not right, SAYERIUS mine, I'm blowed!"

* * * * *

Illustration: STUDIES IN REPARTEE.

_Algy (patronizingly)._ "ULLO, JIM!--WHAT--YOU PLAY THE BANJO? YOU LUCKY
DOG, YOU POSSESS ALL THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS I LACK!"

_Jim, (modestly)._ "OH, NONSENSE! WHY, YOU'RE MAKING ME OUT A REGULAR
_CRICHTON!_"