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 It was a lovely day! [It is of course highly essential to the progress of this history that these most remarkable observations should be made.] The sun shone—as the sun will sometimes shine—brilliantly, and while it shone, all nature, with the exception of Jones and Judkins, looked gay. The sheep in the distance were nibbling the turnips; the stubble was studded with crows; the leaves on the trees around looked green;; and the larks were merrily singing in the air! This was precisely the extraordinary state of things when Judkins and Jones assumed the attitude of defiance, and looked at each other with a species of ferocity perhaps altogether unexampled. As pugilists, however, they were not scientific. They were, moreover, bulky and very short-winded, and therefore execeedingly slow; nor was there any particular time kept. No: at the end of each round, that is to say, when they retreated from each other with the view of "taking breath," they sat upon the grass, sometimes for three minutes, sometimes for five. Time to them was a matter of no importance—they had not been in the habit of hurrying themselves, and they had not the least intention to hurry themselves then. Nor was their friend in any sort of haste; he was remarkably patient and remarkably impartial: indeed, so impartial, that when, at the expiration of twenty minutes, Judkins, who had neither received nor given any blow of importance, wanted some beer, he declared that he wouldn't fetch it unless he had a like commission from Jones. For this commission, however, he had not to wait long, and when he started for the beer, it was with this understanding, that there was to be an absolute cessation of hostilities until he returned. The truce thus established, neither of the combatants had the least desire to violate; it was, therefore, on both sides, honourably observed: but during the absence of their mutual friend reflection came, and their indignation cooled, and hence, on the return of that friend, Judkins said to Jones, "Now you know I'm not afraid of you!—quite the contrary—but as I shouldn't like to have a black eye, and as the parson, I know, wouldn't like to see you with your front teeth knocked out (Judkins thought that this was about the strongest way to put it); if you like, we'll establish no hitting in the face."

"Where are we to hit, then?" said Jones, who was tired of it—quite!—it was very hard work! "If we are not to hit in the face, where are we to hit?"

"I'll tell you," interposed their mutual friend, "hit each other in the hand, and then drink, and make it up. If you don't do this, I'll spill the beer."

This settled the matter at once. Judkins thought of Jones's carrots, and Jones thought of Judkins's onion prize; but as it was perfectly clear to them both that they couldn't get on without beer, they, with a laudable show of reluctance, allowed their friend to join their hands, and thus preserved their honour intact, inasmuch as their bright reputation for courage remained untarnished, albeit the real point at issue was undecided still.

During the progress of this memorable battle, Aunt Eleanor prevailed upon the reverend gentleman to remain and take tea, and, as Sylvester soon became a favourite with the pastor, he, in the course of the