upon the bridge of Timothy's nose, and the fragile glass shivering,
inflicted divers wounds upon his physiognomy, and at the same time
poured forth a dark burnt-sienna coloured balsam, to heal them, giving
pain unutterable. Timothy, disdaining to lament the agony of his wounds,
followed the example of his antagonist, and hastily seizing a similar
bottle of much larger dimensions, threw it with such force that it split
between the eyes of his opponent. Thus with these dreadful weapons did
they commence the mortal strife.

The lovers of _good order_, or at least of fair play, gathered round the
combatants, forming an almost impregnable ring, yet of sufficient
dimensions to avoid the missiles. _"Go it, red-head!" "Bravo! white
apron!"_ resounded on every side. Draughts now met draughts in their
passage through the circumambient air, and exploded like shells over a
besieged town. Bolusses were fired with the precision of cannon shot,
pill-boxes were thrown with such force that they burst like grape and
canister, while acids and alkalies hissed, as they neutralised each
other's power, with all the venom of expiring snakes, "Bravo! white
apron!" "Red-head for ever!" resounded on every side as the conflict
continued with unabated vigour. The ammunition was fast expending on
both sides, when Mr Ebenezer Pleggit, hearing the noise, and perhaps
smelling his own drugs, was so unfortunately rash and so unwisely
foolhardy, as to break through the sacred ring, advancing from behind
with uplifted cane to fell the redoubtable Timothy, when a mixture of
his own, hurled by his own red-haired champion, caught him in his open
mouth, breaking against his only two remaining front teeth, extracting
them as the discharged liquid ran down his throat, and turning him as
sick as a dog. He fell, was taken away on a shutter, and it was some
days before he was again to be seen in his shop, dispensing those
medicines which, on this fatal occasion, he would but too gladly have