"No, not sister, but my affianced wife," said Ande, proudly.
"And I can call you daughter in reality," said happy Mrs. Trembath, as she kissed her affectionately.
But now the Bowling Green became crowded with people. The ball was over. Gentlemen and tradespeople mingled in the sight-seeing of the great event of that memorable day—the wrestling. A space had been cleared and roped off in the centre of the Bowling Green, and soon forth came the gladiators, great, tall, muscular fellows, farmers from the country, miners from the tin mines, and seamen from Penzance and the Lizard Point. The men from the Lizard were great, giant-like men over six feet in stature. The spectators watched with intense interest. Jack Trewlan, anxious once more for honours, was among them, but went down and out of the lists in the very first contest. The poorest wrestlers were disposed of first, and then came men of the first class. Among the latter was a great Lizard Point fellow,—a veritable Goliath in size. Six feet, six inches he stood in his stocking feet and weighed fully two and twenty stone. The measurement of his chest was fifty-three inches, of his waist thirty-nine, of his arms—the right biceps—nineteen inches, the left—a trifle less; his limbs were in proportion to his other measurements. A wild cheer went up from the Lizard men as he stood forth in the roped arena. He had easily vanquished all his fellows,—the great Lizard fellows were as wooden men in his powerful grasp,—and he was entitled to do battle with the champion.
There was another cheer, mainly from the tin miners and farmers, as the champion of Cornwall, Tom Glaze, the victor of nineteen pitched battles, came forth to do battle for the twentieth time for the position he held. The champion was not near so tall or heavy as his opponent, but he was stoutly and toughly built; his muscles were iron-like with constant practice, and in his many battles he had gained that dexterity, cautiousness, tack and trickiness, that was characteristic and essential to a champion.
"A tough opponent, Tom," said one of the gentlemen.
"The bigger they are the heavier they fall," said Tom, and yet there was a little doubt in his mind as he sized up the Goliath before him. A moment they stood, their white duck wrestling jackets in relief against the background, and then they closed into action. The young Lizard fellow was cautious and wary. Tom Glaze seized his favourite hold,—the celebrated Cornish hug, and back and forth they wavered, but the young Colossus seemed to have his great limbs, like pillars, firmly rooted in the ground. Glaze was as agile as a panther, twisting and trying trick after trick. Once he nearly had him on the hip and a hoarse "Huzza" and "Bravo" went up from many throats,—but it was only a partial success. The young Lizard fellow now tried to bring into play his great strength, but every grasp was eluded. Glaze had not been champion so long without learning many things.
"At un, Tom, thraw un down!" cried the men of Helston and the miners to their champion.
"At un, lad, heave un over thy 'ead!" exclaimed the Lizard and Penzance men to their partisan.
"Wait a bit," said a Lizard man, with a knowing wink to a companion, "wait a bit, till 'e uses 'is strength; our man is only playing with un, I tell'ee."
"Ah, dear, dear,—us thought Glaze 'ad un then; but 'e's up again."