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Champion's affair with the Young Tutbury Pet, who was down here in training, with Black the bargeman, with the three head boys of Doctor Wapshot's academy, whom he caught maltreating an outlying day-boy of ours, &c., are known to all the Rodwell Regis men. He was always victorious. He is modest and kind, like all great men. He has a good, brave, honest understanding.
No sooner had the blushing morn displayed her beauties in the east, and gilded with her radiant beams the mountain tops, than Sabra repaired to the Champion's pavilion, and presented him with a diamond ring of inestimable value, which she prayed him to wear on his finger, not only as an ornament, but because it was endued with many excellent and occult virtues.
Never again came there to that band of New Orleans boys such an hour of glory as this at Champion's Hill.
No, by George! every spar is standing," exclaimed the captain, as the smoke from the Champion's broadside cleared away. She immediately again came to the wind.
However, she exerted herself to be amiable. "I hope you are going to win, Mr. Butler," she said. The smile which she forced as she spoke the words removed the coming champion's doubts, though they had never been serious. He was convinced now that he had made a hit. He always did, he reflected, with the girls. It was something about him. His chest swelled complacently beneath the bath-robe.
It was good to see the gravity with which Warrington listened to the Tutbury Pet or the Brighton Stunner at the Champion's Arms, and behold the interest which he took in the coalheaving company assembled at the Fox-under-the-Hill. His acquaintance with the public-houses of the metropolis and its neighbourhood, and with the frequenters of their various parlours, was prodigious.
It was a young woman, with as many white muslin flounces round her as the planet Saturn has rings, that did it. She gave the music-stool a twirl or two and fluffed down on to it like a whirl of soap-suds in a hand-basin. Then she pushed up her cuffs as if she was going to fight for the champion's belt.
I remember one summer evening, seeing him eject an enormous fat Frenchman from his door one of the colony of artificers in glass which lived there at this time. The champion's was the last house in the parish, and beside it lay the Birmingham and Worcester Canal.
The master, Mimer, sheathed his sword, and walked slowly down the hillside to the plain, where his friends welcomed him with cheers and shouts of joy. But the Burgundians, baffled, and feeling vexed, turned silently homeward, nor cast a single look back to the scene of their disappointment and their ill-fated champion's defeat.
Well, I'll tell you the sort: when he wasn't with women he was collecting china. Paying any price for both, I understand." There was a general laugh, and the young champion said: "Well, then ?" "Well, then; she bolted with his secretary." "Oh, I see." The champion's face fell. "It didn't last long, though: I heard of her a few months later living alone in Venice.
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