While the _Punchayiet_, a picked council, are taking down the names of
intending competitors, finding out about their form and performances,
and assigning to each his antagonist, the young men throw themselves
with shouts and laughter into the ring, and go through all the
evolutions and postures of the training ground. They bound about, try
all sorts of antics and contortions, display wonderful agility and
activity; it is a pretty sight to see, and one can't help admiring
their vigorous frames, and graceful proportions. They are handsome,
well made, supple, wiry fellows, although they be NIGGERS, and Hodge
and Giles at home would not have a chance with them in a fair
wrestling bout, conducted according to their own laws and customs.

The entries are now all made, places and pairs are arranged, and to
the ear-splitting thunder of two or three tom-toms, two pair of
strapping youngsters step into the ring; they carefully scan each
other, advance, shake hands, or salaam, leisurely tie up their back
hair, slap their muscles, rub a little earth over their shoulders and
arms, so that their adversary may have a fair grip, then step by step
slowly and gradually they near each other. A few quick passages are
now interchanged; the lithe supple fingers twist and intertwine, grips
are formed on arm and neck. The postures change each moment, and are a
study for an anatomist or sculptor. As they warm to their work they
get more reckless; they are only the raw material, the untrained lads.
There is a quick scuffle, heaving, swaying, rocking, and struggling,
and the two victors, leaping into the air, and slapping their chests,
bound back into the gratified circle of their comrades, while the two
discomfited athletes, forcing a rueful smile, retire and 'take a back
seat.' Two couple of more experienced hands now face each other. There
is pretty play this time, as the varying changes of the contest bring
forth ever varying displays of skill and science. The crowd shout as