Should you be weak enough to yield, you will
find that the worst seats at the highest prices are yours; and, if you
remonstrate next day, he will sigh wearily, and remark,--"Is acheslant
places, Sar; but was Gala Night, you see,"--an enigma, which those who
run may read. He is always offering to do something, and doing _you_
instead. He is absolutely unnecessary, for there is seldom anyone in a
Grand Hotel to "chuck out," and this would be his only justification.
* * * * *
THE "BLOWER" BURST UP!
The "Blower" came down, like the braggart he was,
And of winning the fight was peculiarly "poz;"
And the voice of his backers was loud in their glee;--
"We shall lick him in two rounds--or certainly three!"
Like the "Champion Slugger," in trunks of bright green,
The "Big Fellow" at Eight fifty-two might be seen:
Like a truculent Titan, blind, baffled, and blown,
At Ten thirty-seven the brute was o'erthrown.
For CORBETT smote fiercely, and CORBETT fought fast,
And the bullying bounder was beaten at last;
And the cheeks of the coarse woman-puncher were chill,
He rolled over, and struggled to rise, and lay still.
And there stood his foe with his nostrils all wide,
And the shouts of his backers rolled on in their pride.
The swells of the Ring and the stars of the Turf
Surged round like the waves of the storm-beaten surf.
And there lay the "Blower," distorted and pale,
With the blood on his brow where the blows fell like hail.
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