Charity Boy. "Under the ribs! Well done!"
First Boy. "That's a vinder for im!"
Third Boy. "Tater, keep your pecker up, old chap!"
Butcher Boy. "Right and left! Hooroar! Fake away!"
All science is now abandoned, and they rush together, pell-mell; but in the heat of the conflict a Policeman appears, and advancing to the scene of action, separates, with some difficulty, the incensed opponents. After a little additional altercation, they are persuaded to shake hands, and each gathering up his cap from the field of battle, returns home, accompanied by his partisans, the victory remaining undecided.
The horrid scene which we have profaned our pen in describing suggests a few reflections which it may behove our readers to consider. In the first place, with reference to the coarse practice of boxing among the Children of the Mobility, we think it decidedly objectionable. It tends to eradicate from their minds all those fears and susceptibilities with regard to personal safety, by means of which, alone, they are manageable; and to replace them with those unamiable qualities which render them, when grown up, offensive to the genteel and the delicate. It also enables them to repay any little playfulness in which a distingué youth may happen to indulge with them, such as tilting off their caps, or knocking their marbles out of the ring, with rude and painful blows. The frightful violence, too, which their street broils do to the ears and eyes of any of the superior classes who may have the misfortune to witness them, ladies for instance, in their carriages, is such, that we are shocked to think of it. Some people say that it is best to let them have their quarrels out, as they express it, that they may be prevented from bearing malice. We hear, too, a great deal about the danger of stabbing becoming prevalent, were pugilism discountenanced, among the lower orders. Still, being beaten about with great hard knuckles, is very horrid; and the knife, if more sanguinary than the fist, is decidedly more romantic and piquant.
But what shall we say of the Children of the Nobility learning, at public schools, to emulate the boys of the street, transforming themselves from innocent and interesting lambs, into ferocious bull-dogs, if we may use so strong a metaphor, and making one another perfect frights? What must be the feelings of their Mammas?