the march of the Hubbabub army was stopped--the menaced empire of
Vraibleusia was saved from the flowing tide of Radical ruin; the
Marquis of STROKEFOGIES appeared in a blaze of triumph that outblazed
even the Berlin "Peace with Honour" business, and CODLINGSBY JUNIOR
"took the cake."

* * * * *

The dinner over, the young men rushed from their Club (White's),
flushed, full fed, and eager for battle. If the Blues were angry, the
Buffs were also on the alert.

"I can have a dinner at any hour," said CODLINGSBY JUNIOR; "but a Blue
and Buff row"--(a shillelagh here flying through the window crashed
"the cake" from CODLINGSBY's hand)--"a Blue and Buff row is a novelty
to me. The Buffs have the best of it, clearly, though; the Cads
outnumber the Swells. Ha! a good blow! How that burly Caucusite went
down before yonder slim young fellow in the primrose pants!"

"That is the Lord TIDDLEMPOPS," said a companion. "A light weight, but
a pretty fighter," CODLINGSBY remarked. "Well hit with your left, Lord
TIDDLEMPOPS; well parried, Lord TIDDLEMPOPS; claret drawn, by Jingo!"

"He never can be going to match himself against that Wirepuller!"
CODLINGSBY exclaimed, as an enormous Caucusite--no other than
SCHNADDY, indeed, the famous ex-Brummagem bruiser, before whose fists
the Blues went down like ninepins--fought his way up to the spot
where, pluckily, but a little too negligently, TIDDLEMPOPS and one or
two of his young friends were bringing aristocratic _laissez faire_ to
bear against the _fortiter in re_ of the fighting Caucusite Cads.