* * * * * * *
The sixth and last round, is described by the pressman and compositors, as having been fearfully scientific. We held "the Judge" down over the Press by our nose (which we had inserted between his teeth for that purpose), and while our hair was employed in holding one of his hands we held the other in our left, and with the "sheep's foot" brandished above our head, shouted to him, "Say Waldo," "Never!" he gasped—
"O my Bigler!" he would have muttered,
But that he "dried up," ere the word was uttered.
At this moment we discovered that we had been laboring under a "misunderstanding," and through the amicable intervention of the pressman, who thrust a roller between our faces (which gave the whole affair a very different complexion), the matter was finally settled on the most friendly terms—"and without prejudice to the honor of either party." We write this while sitting without any clothing, except our left stocking, and the rim of our hat encircling our neck like a "ruff" of the Elizabethan era—that article of dress having been knocked over our head at an early stage of the proceedings, and the crown subsequently torn off, while "the Judge" is sopping his eye with cold water, in the next room, a small boy standing beside the sufferer with a basin, and glancing with interest over the advertisements on the second page of the San Diego Herald, a fair copy of which was struck off upon the back of his shirt, at the time we held him over the Press. Thus ends our description of this long anticipated personal collision, of which the public can believe precisely as much as they please; if they disbelieve the whole of it, we shall not be at all offended, but can simply quote as much to the point, what might have been the commencement of our epitaph, had we fallen in the conflict,
"Here Lies Phœnix."
Phœnixiana.
INCREDULITY.
A gentleman telling a very improbable story, and observing one of the company cast a doubtful eye, "Zounds, Sir," says he, "I saw the thing happen." "If you did," says the other, "I must believe it; but I would not have believed it if I had seen it myself."
A SECOND METHUSELAH.
A statuary was directed to inscribe on a monument the age of the deceased, namely 81. The person who gave the order recollecting, however, that it should have been 82, desired the sculptor to add one year more; and the veteran to whose memory this stone was erected, is recorded as having "departed this life at the advanced age of 811!"