"I shan't be tired when I have walked back."

"You can't ride, I suppose?"

"Better than I can walk."

"Then why do you walk?"

"I have frequently to make journeys connected with my profession; sometimes I walk, sometimes I ride, just as the whim takes me."

"Will you take a gla.s.s of wine?"

"Yes."

"That's right; what shall it be?"

"Madeira!"

The magistrate gave a violent slap on his knee. "I like your taste,"

said he; "I am fond of a gla.s.s of Madeira myself, and can give you such a one as you will not drink every day; sit down, young gentleman; you shall have a gla.s.s of Madeira, and the best I have."

Thereupon he got up, and, followed by his two terriers, walked slowly out of the room.

I looked round the room, and, seeing nothing which promised me much amus.e.m.e.nt, I sat down, and fell again into my former train of thought.

"What is truth?" said I.

"Here it is," said the magistrate, returning at the end of a quarter of an hour, followed by the servant, with a tray; "here's the true thing, or I am no judge, far less a justice. It has been thirty years in my cellar last Christmas. There," said he to the servant, "put it down, and leave my young friend and me to ourselves. Now, what do you think of it?"

"It is very good," said I.

"Did you ever taste better Madeira?"

"I never before tasted Madeira."

"Then you ask for a wine without knowing what it is?"

"I ask for it, sir, that I may know what it is."

"Well, there is logic in that, as Parr would say; you have heard of Parr?"

"Old Parr?"

"Yes, old Parr, but not that Parr; you mean the English, I the Greek Parr, {225a} as people call him."

"I don't know him."

"Perhaps not--rather too young for that, but were you of my age, you might have cause to know him, coming from where you do. He kept school there--I was his first scholar; he flogged Greek into me till I loved him--and he loved me: he came to see me last year, and sat in that chair; I honour Parr--he knows much, and is a sound man."

"Does he know the truth?"

"Know the truth; he knows what's good, from an oyster to an ostrich--he's not only sound, but round."

"Suppose we drink his health?"

"Thank you, boy: here's Parr's health, and Whiter's."

"Who is Whiter?"

"Don't you know Whiter? I thought everybody knew Reverend Whiter the philologist, {225b} though I suppose you scarcely know what that means. A man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way--he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?"

"Is he a sound man?"

"Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say: he has got queer notions in his head--wrote a book to prove that all words came originally from the earth--who knows? Words have roots, and roots live in the earth; but, upon the whole, I should not call him altogether a sound man, though he can talk Greek nearly as fast as Parr."

"Is he a round man?"

"Ay, boy, rounder than Parr; I'll sing you a song, if you like, which will let you into his character:--

'Give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink Madeira old, And a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold, An Arabic book to study, a Norfolk cob to ride, And a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side; With such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal, Though I should live for a hundred years, for death I would not call.'

Here's to Whiter's health--so you know nothing about the fight?"

"No, sir; the truth is, that of late I have been very much occupied with various matters, otherwise I should, perhaps, have been able to afford you some information--boxing is a n.o.ble art."

"Can you box?"

"A little."

"I tell you what, my boy; I honour you, and provided your education had been a little less limited, I should have been glad to see you here in company with Parr and Whiter; both can box. Boxing is, as you say, a n.o.ble art--a truly English art; may I never see the day when Englishmen shall feel ashamed of it, or blacklegs and blackguards bring it into disgrace. I am a magistrate, and, of course, cannot patronise the thing very openly, yet I sometimes see a prize fight: I saw the Game Chicken beat Gulley."

"Did you ever see Big Ben?"

"No! why do you ask?" But here we heard a noise, like that of a gig driving up to the door, which was immediately succeeded by a violent knocking and ringing, and after a little time, the servant who had admitted me made his appearance in the room. "Sir," said he, with a certain eagerness of manner, "here are two gentlemen waiting to speak to you."

"Gentlemen waiting to speak to me! who are they?"

"I don't know, sir," said the servant; "but they look like sporting gentlemen, and--and"--here he hesitated; "from a word or two they dropped, I almost think that they come about the fight."

"About the fight!" said the magistrate. "No! that can hardly be; however, you had better show them in."

Heavy steps were now heard ascending the stairs, and the servant ushered two men into the apartment. Again there was a barking, but louder than that which had been directed against myself, for here were two intruders; both of them were remarkable looking men, but to the foremost of them the most particular notice may well be accorded: he was a man somewhat under thirty, and nearly six feet in height. He was dressed in a blue coat, white corduroy breeches, fastened below the knee with small golden b.u.t.tons; on his legs he wore white lamb's-wool stockings, and on his feet shoes reaching to the ankles; round his neck was a handkerchief of the blue and bird's eye pattern; he wore neither whiskers nor moustaches, and appeared not to delight in hair, that of his head, which was of a light brown, being closely cropped; the forehead was rather high, but somewhat narrow; the face neither broad nor sharp, perhaps rather sharp than broad; the nose was almost delicate; the eyes were grey, with an expression in which there was sternness blended with something approaching to feline; his complexion was exceedingly pale, relieved, however, by certain pock-marks, which here and there studded his countenance; his form was athletic, but lean; his arms long. In the whole appearance of the man there was a blending of the bluff and the sharp. You might have supposed him a bruiser; his dress was that of one in all its minutiae; something was wanting, however, in his manner--the quietness of the professional man; he rather looked like one performing the part--well--very well--but still performing a part. His companion!--there, indeed, was the bruiser--no mistake about him: a tall ma.s.sive man, with a broad countenance and a flattened nose; dressed like a bruiser, but not like a bruiser going into the ring; he wore white-topped boots, and a loose brown jockey coat.

As the first advanced towards the table, behind which the magistrate sat, he doffed a white castor from his head, and made rather a genteel bow; looking at me, who sat somewhat on one side, he gave a kind of nod of recognition.

"May I request to know who you are, gentlemen?" said the magistrate.

"Sir," said the man in a deep, but not unpleasant voice, "allow me to introduce to you my friend, Mr. ---, the celebrated pugilist;" and he motioned with his hand towards the ma.s.sive man with the flattened nose.

"And your own name, sir?" said the magistrate.