himself, kissed the ground, and seated himself
on the side of the belfry. The provost
of the town then entered the enclosure,
and the champions swore respectively on the
Holy Gospels that their quarrel was good.
Next, their dresses were greased, in order
that they might have less hold upon each
other; spices were brought in silver cups to
invigorate them, and two other cups
containing ashes, with which they rubbed their
hands. When all was properly disposed
according to the usages and franchises of the
town, the provost threw the glove, which had
been taken up as the gage of battle, and
cried, "Do your duty! do your duty! do your
duty!"

The champions, after having beaten each
other with their sticks, grappled together,
and shook each other violently. Mahuot
fell; but instantly got up again. Jacotin
rushed upon him, threw him down once
more, held him firmly to the ground, thrust
sand into his eyes, and tortured him for
nearly three-quarters of an hour, to make
him confess the murder.

Philippe the Good remained in the house
of Melchior du Gardin, the provost, of the
town, and watched the combat behind a
blind. He sent to inquire of the magistrate
if there were no means of putting a stop to
this horrible struggle. The magistrate
replied that that could not be without
prejudice to the privileges of the city, and that
the conflict must have its course.

At last, after being for a long while
tortured by his adversary, Mahuot, utterly
blind and crippled in every limb, cried,
"Enough!" but, on rising, he endeavoured
to rush upon his foe; but Jacotin twisted
his arms until they broke.

The wretched man, acknowledging
himself beaten, and confessing the murder, had
still strength enough to cry out so as to be
heard at a distance: "My Lord of Burgundy,
pity! pity! I served you well in your war
with Ghent!" The Duke was moved even to
tears. He again asked the magistrate whether
it were possible to save the life of this
unfortunate wretch, or at least, when dead, to
accord him burial in consecrated ground.
The provost answered, that the law must be
fulfilled step by step. Meanwhile, Jacotin
had completed his terrible vengeance with
blows of his stick. He seized the bleeding
corpse by one leg, and dragged it out of the
list; after which—and this part of the
chronicle cannot be read without a shudder—
he went to the church of Nôtre-Dame-la-
Grande, to return thanks to God for having
caused justice to triumph!

The magistrate gave judgment that the
murderer should be dragged on a hurdle
to the gallows, and be there, for form's sake,
strangled and hung. The Duke of Burgundy,
justly indignant at the execution which he
had witnessed; and which, in spite of all his
power, he had been unable to prevent, swore
to abolish this barbarous custom.
Thenceforwards it was never practised in the Low
Countries.

WINDLASS SONG.

HEAVE at the windlass!—Heave O, cheerly, men
   Heave all at once, with a will!
      The tide's quickly making,
      Our cordage a-creaking,
   The water has put on a frill,
                                         Heave 0!

Fare-you-well, sweethearts! Heave O, cheerly, men
   Shore gambarado and sport!
      The good ship all ready,
      The dog-vane all steady,
   The wind blowing dead out of port,
                                         Heave O!

Once in blue water! Heave O, cheerly, men!
   Blow it from north or from south,
      She'll stand to it brightly,
      And curtsy politely,
   And carry a bone in her mouth,
                                         Heave O!

Short cruise or long cruise—Heave O, cheerly, men!
   Jolly Jack Tar thinks it one.
      No latitude dreads he
      Of White, Black, or Red Sea;
   Great icebergs, or tropical sun;
                                        Heave O!

One other turn, and Heave O, cheerly, men!
   Heave, and good-bye to the shore!
      Our money, how went it?
      We shared it and spent it;
   Next year we'll come back with some more.
                                         Heave O!

A DAY AFTER BATTLE FAIR.

THERE have been plenty of shows of late.
You have been to all of them: you had your
first-floor front in Ludgate Hill (two and a
half guineas, lunch included, and very hot
sherry included in that), on the eighteenth
of November last. You had your double
journey ticket to Paris in January to see the
great marriage show in Nôtre Dame, and
shot all the lions in the French capital in
a week. You had your seat on a "dwag,"
and your share in the well-packed hampers,
(shall they be counted as nothing, O Fortnum
and Mason!) on the race days. You took an
excursion-ticket to Dublin when the Irish
Exhibition opened, and combined a hurry-
skurry visit to the Lakes of Killarney with
the inspection of the staple produce,
manufactures, and industrial arts of the Emerald
Isle. You have been to all the shows,
Royal Academies, Water-colours, British
Artists, British Institution, Gore House,
Opera, Zulu Kaffirs; all the fairs: Greenwich,
Stepney, Charlton, and Battle Fair.
Of course. To this last you went on horseback?
In a zephyr coat, with a green veil
tied round your hat and escorting, like a true
gallant as you are, a galaxy of beauteous