an advantage is gained, or cry out 'Hi, hi' in a doubtful manner, as
their favourite seems to be getting the worst of it. The result
however is much the same; after a longer or shorter time, two get
fairly thrown and retire. If there is any dispute, it is at once
referred to the judges, who sit grimly watching the struggle, and
comparing the paenches displayed, with those they themselves have
practised in many a well-won fight. On a reference being made, both
combatants retain their exact hold and position, only cease straining.
As soon as the matter is settled, they go at it again till victory
determine in favour of the lucky man. In no similar contest in England
I am convinced would there be so much fairness, quietness, and order.
The only stimulants in the crowd are betel nut and tobacco. All is
orderly and calm, and at any moment a word from the sahib will quell
any rising turbulence. It is now time for a still more scientific
exhibition.

Pat has a man, a tall, wiry, handsome Brahmin, who has never yet been
beaten. Young K. has long been jealous of his uniform success, and on
several occasions has brought an antagonist to battle with Pat's
champion. To-day he has got a sturdy young blacksmith, whom rumour
hath much vaunted, and although he is not so tall as Pat's wrestler,
his square, deep chest and stalwart limbs, give promise of great
strength and endurance.

As the two men strip and bound into the ring, there is the usual hush
of anticipation. Keen eyes scan the appearance of the antagonists.
They are both models of manly beauty. The blacksmith, though more
awkward in his motions, has a cool, determined look about him. The
Brahmin, conscious of his reputation, walks quickly up, with a smile
of rather ostentatious condescension on his finely cut features, and