The Honourable Mr. Tawnish (Chapter 4, page 1 of 13)

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Chapter 4

Myself and Bentley were returning from another dog-fight. This time my dog had lost (which was but natural, seeing its very unfit condition, though to be sure it looked well enough at a glance). Alas! the sport is not what it was in my young days, when rogues can so put off a sick dog upon the unsuspecting. Methinks 'tis becoming a very brutal, degrading practice--have determined to have done with dog-fighting once and for all. Bentley was in a high good humour (as was but to be expected, seeing he had won nigh upon two hundred guineas of me), but then, as I have said, Bentley never wins but he must needs show it.

"By the way," said he, breaking off in the middle of the air he was humming, "did you see him at the fight?"

"Him?" says I.

"Raikes," nodded Bentley. "Man Dick, I never see the fellow but my fingers itch for his throat. I heard some talk that he had won a thousand or so from young Vesey, by this one bout alone."

"Humph!" says I.

"Come, Dick," says Bentley, "let's get on; he cannot be so very far behind, and I have no stomach for his society--I'll race you to the cross roads for fifty."

"I'll hurry myself for no such fellow as Raikes!" says I.

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