of the Nautical Division, pithily called him the other day. If some
of these credulous or conceited coves had witnessed the little
trial "scrap" which took place recently (on the strict Q.T.), at
the "Admiral's Head," in the presence of Mr. JOHN B-LL (the famous
P.R. referee), between the vaunted "Whopper" and a smart and handy
light-weight known as "Quickfire," their owl-eyes might, having been
a little opened, and their peacock-strut a bit modified.

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,