There was no more thought of battle or broil; and there were as many
navvies as University men among the enthusiasts who bore the champion on
their shoulders into "The George."

How we reveled on that night of victory, especially when Guy, after
necessary ablutions and change of raiment, joined us, calm and
self-possessed as ever, only slightly swelled about the lower lip, and a
dark red flush on his forehead! He had satisfactory accounts of his
adversary, the said amiable individual having so far recovered, under
the surgeon's hands, as to swear thrice--"quite like hisself," the
messenger said--and to call for cold brandy and water.

Livingstone's health was proposed twice--the first time by a fellow of
King's, with a neat talent for classical allusions, who remarked that,
"if the olive-crown of the Hippodrome had fallen to the lot of
Cambridge, none would deny her sister's claim to the parsley of the
cæstus." The second time was very late in the evening, by M'Diarmid. It
must be confessed that gallant chieftain was somewhat incoherent, and
amid protestations of admiration and eternal friendship, much to our
astonishment, wept profusely. Still later, he got very maudlin indeed,
and was heard to murmur, looking at his scarred knuckles, that "he was
afraid he must have hurt some one that night," with an accent of
heartfelt sorrow and contrition which was inimitable.

We heard afterward that the taunt which made the fight a certainty came
from the commissioner of the party who stood heavily against the Big
'un, sent down to watch him in his training, and spy out the joints in
his harness.