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Even on his cheeks, the bloom was scarce the breadth of a dollar.
Round the Second. Spring shewed the same strong guard, but ever ready for action. Neat began to breathe short, when, WAP! came a flushy right-hander, Plump on his fore-head, and, lo! the stream of the claret was flowing, * Sanguine'as butchers will bleed, not at all like the ichor of angels. Out did he hit to the right--Spring sprung back-Neat again tried it, But, on the side of the head, he got such a lump of a twister, That he was turned quite round, and nearly saluted his mother.+ Stupid and senseless he looked like a young whig lawyer of Embro'(Some little mealy-faced pup, amazed with a recent suffusion From the uplifted leg of some big boardly bull-dog of Blackwood)Then did the hooting arise, from various people indignant; And, in the hubbub loud, “ Cross, Cross !” was frequently mentioned. This brought Neat to his senses, and straight he took to in-fighting. Bloody hard hits came from both—-'twas head-work chiefly between them : Down in the end went Neat, and blue looked the betters of Bristol !
Round the Chirð. Neat tried his hand at hard hitting—and then were the heavy exchanges. But in one counter-hit, his blow was heavier than Tommy's,
Sanguine as butchers will bleed, not at Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may all like the ichor of angels. ]
bleed.”_MILTON. M. OD. From the gash
+ His mother] i. e. the Earth. This ! A stream of nectareous humour issuing, explain for the groundlings.-M. OD.
For it sent him away. Bill Neat then burst out a-laughing,
Round the fourth.
Rounds Filth and Sirth.
Round the Seventh.
• Heard his fists, right and left, rap! # A mere Phrenological fellow, who, as rap! on the body of Billy.) - Imitated we happen to know, cannot tell a man's from
head from a turnip.)-See the organization 66 Heard the bell from the tower toll! toll! of that celebrated Swede, Professor Torn. in the silence of evening.”
hippson, as developed in those two scientific SOUTHEY.-M. OD. works, the Transactions of the Phrenologi. + Arter. ]-Bristolian for after.. cal Society, and the Noctes Ambrosianæ,
M. OD No. VIII.M.OD.
One, however, took place on the right lower ribs of the hero,
Round Eighth and Last.
Woe was in Bristol town-woe, woe on the Severn and Avon;
Such was the state of the West. Meanwhile Spring travelled to London, There to be hailed as the Champion bold of merry Old England. Neat he saw in bed-his arm was fastened with splinters-
• Face of my Lord Grim-Grizzlc. 1. Is not mine something like ?-M. OD. An acquaintance of Mr Lambton's, who (Of course.-C. N.) calls him the Erl-King.
Mark the spon
1. The whole black body of butchers raged, daic again, Dr Carey.-M. OD.
like a troubled sea, with a wild and muti. + Stormy and sad by fits. 1--Sec Homer, nous uproar. 1-Imitated from 11. 7. “A meeting of Trojans was held,” - The whole dense body of darkness says the old fellow,
Raged like a troubled sea, with a wild and
mutinous uproar.-SOUTHEY." Δείδη και τετρήχυία. .
I quote from memory.-M. OD.
And in the heel of his fist Tom nobly inserted some shiners.
Where are the chaffers now, who swore that Spring was no hitter?
It is an undoubted historical fact, that Neat's brotherhood, the butchers of Bristol, betted particularly thick upon him. He must be a rigid moralist, indeed, who would condemn this. “Butcherus sum, butcheriani nihil a me alienum puto,” will hold as truly, ay, and more truly, than the original passage of the dramatist, which asserted, that all human cares were participated in by all human beings. The butchers, consequently, were severe sufferers; one poor flesher bled to the tune of six hundred pounds—an amiable man, with an interesting wife and six small children. The green visage of the Sheriff was seen in the market; and a vast quantity of the implements by which the most powerful of cattle fell, fell themselves in turn under the fatal hammer of the auctioneer. It is not wonderful, under such circumstances, that the butchers should shew much sore flesh. Among them it is a general belief that Neat did cross it; and accordingly he is not so popular a preacher as the Reverend Neddy Irving, by several degrees. Besides, national pride is against the belief, that a Herefordshire man, bred in London, should subdue the flower of Bristol, the wonder of the western land. Neat, however, is ina dignant at the idea, and lays the whole circumference of the blame upon his broken radius. We happened to be bye in Bristol, when a young gentleman, six feet two high, of a inild countenance, slightly pitted with the small-pox, and considerably blown up with brandy, was coming off a Southampton coach, in company with his father, a very decent-looking seventeen-stone old body. The father and son were conversing affably about the late event, which has brought more ruin on the western empire than any disaster since the days of Honorius; and the son, just as he stepped down, remarked gently, “ By Neat sold the fight.” A man of a certain appearance, with his right arm in a sling, was standing by, and asked, with more energy than politesse, “ Who the blazes dost thee speak of?”—“ Why,” said the youth, Neat, who sold the fight.” On which the man of the arm, putting forth his sinister bunch of fives, saluted the youngster under the ear with a blow that projected him about seven feet six inches across the street, deposited him in a place of safety in the sink, and sent the blood gushing forth, with the most fluent liberality, from mouth, nose, and ears. ". Now,” said the striker, “ I'm Neat; what dost thee say to that?”—“ Nothing at all,” replied the strikee, “ only that I am satisfied.”
But forty thousand knock-down blows would not satisfy the body-politic of the butchers. We were ourself in company with a very interesting and ingenious person of that tribe, with whom we had much conversation. He is a truly fine and amiable butcher, who had lost a quantity of cash on the fight. He vented his indignation sadly against Bill Neat, and his wrath would not be appeased. He ventured to suggest, that Bill's arm being broken, quite did up all his chance; and hinted, that, in fact, he had no chance even without the smash of his bone. In truth, we may as well at once tell the reader, that we look upon Spring as the better man--tardy to be sure, something like a
British reviewer, but still of guard impenetrable, great coolness, great courage, and great science. Neat is a man more of genius than cultivation-in ruffianing superb, in skill defective. Now, as we know that they are men of equal weight, or that the difference, if any, is for Spring, he being 3 pounds heavier, and that he has the advantage of being a nicer height, viz. 5 feet 114 inches, while Neat is 6 feet | inch, we say that no ruffianosity can ever beat science under such circumstances. This we stated with our utmost eloquence to our friend the butcher, but in vain. He had a preconceived theory that Neat could beat, and would not, which no facts could conquer. Una doubtedly, however, our friend, the feller of oxen, is a man of genius ; for he wrote a song in the height of his indignation, of which he kindly gave us a copy, on condition that we should keep it a secret. We therefore commit it in confidence to our readers :
Lament of a big Bristol Butcher.
I was as green as cabbage,
The ugly-looking savage.
And as the Severn muddy,
Of that big bruiser bloody.
As stupid as a jack-ass,
One whiff of my tobaccoes.
I now don't care a splinter;
Than the bitterest day of Winter.
Woe, woe among the cleavers !
Among Bill Neat's believers.
I'm rooked of every sovereign;
Whatever king may govern! We do not hesitate to say, that the author of these verses is a poet, and are not without a hope, that the same age, which saw raised from humble degree to the heights, or at least declivities, of Parnassus, such souls as those of our own, our dear friend Hogg the Shepherd of Ettrick, or, to leave him out of the question, of Clare the hedger, Cunningham the mason, Blomfield the herd, Keates the apothecary, and Mrs Yearsley the milkwoman, will also have the happiness of witnessing the rise and progress of the author of this Lament, Humphry Huggins, the butcher.