The "Woolwich Whopper," for all his height and overwhelming weight, seemed to toe the scratch with awkward reluctance. He put up his dukes very fumblingly, and his attitude was decidedly of the "head-over-tip" character. Young "Quickfire," on the contrary, was erect as a dart, nimble on his pins as a girl at her first dance, and smart in delivery as a newly-promoted Postman, or the Parcels Express. He was all over his man in a brace of shakes, and the "Whopper," who looked as though he could have knocked holes in him if he could have hit him, could hardly land a "little one in" once in the course of a round, and then it was so short that it would hardly have brushed a bumble-bee off a buttercup.
The respected Referee, who watched the dust-up with careful interest, was much pleased with the promise of the smart light-weight, "Quickfire," who seems to have in him the makings of a fine fighter. Mr. B-LL did not disguise his disgust at the feeble figure cut by the "Whopper," about whose pretensions to first-class form, let alone Champion honours, it is to be hoped we shall hear little more for the future.
[Mem.—Mr. Punch suspects that the above edifying and idiomatic homily was intended for some sporting contemporary, but, with his accustomed courtesy, he gives it for what it is worth.]
TO A COMPLIMENTARY COUNSEL.
["Here the Plaintiff met the Defendant, who formed a strong attachment for her, at which he (the learned Counsel), did not wonder."—Extract from a recent Report.]
The Plaintiff she was very fair—
I'd very gladly make a verse on
Her face, her smile, her eyes, her hair,
Her comely and attractive person.