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Cashel Byron's Profession

Page 97

"It was a stupid joke. Mrs. Hoskyn had worried Worthington to bring

some celebrity to her house; and, in revenge, he took his pugilistic

protege."

"Hm!"

"I do not defend Worthington. But discretion is hardly to be

expected from him."

"He has discretion enough to understand a case of this kind

thoroughly. But let that pass. I have been thinking upon what you

tell me about these singular people, whose existence I hardly knew

of before. Now, Lucian, in the course of my reading I have come upon

denunciations of every race and pursuit under the sun. Very

respectable and well-informed men have held that Jews, Irishmen,

Christians, atheists, lawyers, doctors, politicians, actors,

artists, flesh-eaters, and spirit-drinkers are all of necessity

degraded beings. Such statements can be easily proved by taking a

black sheep from each flock, and holding him up as the type. It is

more reasonable to argue a man's character from the nature of his

profession; and yet even that is very unsafe. War is a cruel

business; but soldiers are not necessarily bloodthirsty and inhuman

men. I am not quite satisfied that a prize-fighter is a violent and

dangerous man because he follows a violent and dangerous

profession--I suppose they call it a profession."

Lucian was about to speak; but she interrupted him by continuing, "And yet that is not what concerns me at present. Have you found out

anything about Mr. Byron personally? Is he an ordinary

representative of his class?"

"No; I should rather think--and hope--that he is a very

extraordinary representative of it. I have traced his history back

to his boyhood, when he was a cabin-boy. Having apparently failed

to recommend himself to his employers in that capacity, he became

errand-boy to a sort of maitre d'armes at Melbourne. Here he

discovered where his genius lay; and he presently appeared in the

ring with an unfortunate young man named Ducket, whose jaw he

fractured. This laid the foundation of his fame. He fought several

battles with unvarying success; but at last he allowed his valor to

get the better of his discretion so far as to kill an Englishman who

contended with him with desperate obstinacy for two hours. I am

informed that the particular blow by which he felled the poor wretch

for the last time is known in pugilistic circles as 'Cashel's

killer,' and that he has attempted to repeat it in all his

subsequent encounters, without, however, achieving the same fatal

result. The failure has doubtless been a severe disappointment to

him. He fled from Australia and reappeared in America, where he

resumed his victorious career, distinguishing himself specially by

throwing a gigantic opponent in some dreadful fashion that these men

have, and laming him for life. He then--"

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