Cashel Byron's Profession

"Do you mean to say," said Lydia, indignantly, "that they are going

to turn a sheep loose and hunt it on horseback with swords?"

Lord Worthington laughed and said yes; but it presently appeared

that by a sheep was meant a lean carcass of mutton. A stalwart

sergeant cut it in half as a climax to slicing lemons, bars of lead,

and silk handkerchiefs; and the audience, accustomed to see much

more disgusting sights in butchers' shops, liberally applauded him.

Two gentlemen of the Olympian Club now entered the enclosure which

Lord Worthington called the ring. After shaking hands with one

another as well as their huge padded gloves permitted, they hugged

themselves with their right arms as if there were some danger of

their stomachs falling out if not held tightly in, and danced round

one another, throwing out and retracting their left fists like

pawing horses. They were both, as Lydia learned from the

announcement of their names and achievements by the master of the

ceremonies, amateur champions. She thought their pawing and dancing

ridiculous; and when they occasionally rushed together and scuffled,

she could distinguish nothing of the leading off, stopping, ducking,

countering, guarding, and getting away to which Lord Worthington

enthusiastically invited her attention, and which elicited alternate

jeers and applause from the shilling audience below. She laughed

outright when, at the expiration of three minutes, the two dropped

supine into chairs at opposite corners of the ring as if they had

sustained excessive fatigue. At the end of a minute, some one

hoarsely cried "Time!" and they rose and repeated their previous

performance for three minutes more. Another minute of rest followed;

and then the dancing and pawing proceeded for four minutes, after

which the champions again shook hands and left the arena.

"And is that all?" said Lydia.

"That's all," said Lord Worthington. "It's the most innocent thing

in the world, and the prettiest."

"It does not strike me as being pretty," said Lydia; "but it seems

as innocent as inanity can make it." Her mind misgave her that she

had ignorantly and unjustly reproached Cashel Byron with ferocity

merely because he practised this harmless exercise.

The show progressed through several phases of skilled violence.

Besides single combats between men armed in various fashions, there

were tilts, tent-peggings, drilling and singlestick practice by

squads of British tars, who were loudly cheered, and more boxing and

vaulting by members of the club. Lydia's attention soon began to

wander from the arena. Looking down at the crowd outside the

palisades, she saw a small man whom she vaguely remembered, though

his face was turned from her. In conversation with him was a

powerful man dressed in a yellow tweed suit and green scarf. He had

a coarse, strong voice, and his companion a shrill, mean one, so

that their remarks could be heard by an attentive listener above the

confused noise of the crowd.