man, who had climbed up the banisters, levelled his shillelah at
Travis's head; but our friend anticipated the blow by giving Pat point
in the breast with such strength and dexterity, that he tumbled
helplessly into the mass beneath, causing much inconvenience and more
panic. This done, Travis darted at his relative, who was knocking down
the Whigs right and left, and had nearly gained a footing on the
landing-place. Both were adepts in single-stick practice, and the
contest bid fair to be of long duration; but they were not to have it
all to themselves, for as other Loco-Focos gained the top of the stairs,
the _melee_ became general. It would require the pen of an Irving or a
Fielding to do full justice to the scene. Black eyes, bloody noses, and
broken heads were lavishly distributed in all directions; Irish yells
and Tippecanoe war-cries swelled the uproar; while from the front
windows of the room within some elderly gentlemen kept insanely crying
"Watch!"

The Whigs had greatly the advantage over their opponents in point of
position and numbers, but the assailants were more practised
belligerents, and provided with better weapons. Moreover, many friends
of the registry law had as yet taken no part in the affray, vainly
hoping that the city authorities (at that time Loco-Focos) would
interfere. Inch by inch the Butt-enders fought their way forward. The
Whigs were visibly giving ground. A panic seized their ranks, and those
who were still in the room began to look about them for means of
escape. There was a small back-window, with a shed five or six feet
below it, whence the ground could be reached by a ladder. Out of this
window dropped, and down this ladder rattled the president,
vice-presidents, secretaries, and, in short, the most quiet and
respectable men of the meeting. Their exit was as undignified as their
entry had been pompous. At length the shed, being rather ancient, gave
way under the weight of a very fat man, who was snugly deposited in a
pigsty beneath, so that hope was cut off.

The Whigs now became desperate: they saw that they must fight in
earnest, and advanced to a man. The Butt-enders were stopped in their
advance. Both parties wavered. Travis perceived that the decisive blow
was now to be struck. Closing up to Lloyd, he came down on him "with an
awk stroke," as the old romancers say, that fairly broke down his guard,
and beat him back upon three or four of his followers, who all went over
toget