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The crowd assembled in front of the Robin Hood at twelve o’clock would have been characterised by Dominie Sampson as “prodigious!” and it was not till “the office” was given that the ring had been formed by Deputy Commissary Clarke in a field at the back of Coombe Wood, that a move took place and the blockade of the Robin Hood was raised. The moment the where was known, a simultaneous toddle took place up the hill, and the ring was shortly surrounded by an extensive circle of panting prads and loaded vehicles; but scarcely had the anxious coves time to congratulate themselves on having obtained a good berth, when a “Conservative” beak, one of the enemies of the sports of the people, who had stolen from his counter in the town of Kingston, attended by a noted distributor of religious tracts, poked his ill-omened visage into the ring, and addressing Jack Clarke, who was viewing his handiwork with the eye of an accomplished artist, said, “My good man, you have your duty to perform and I have mine; I am a magistrate, and will not permit any fight to take place in this county, and I trust I shall not be molested.” Jack looked as civil as a gipsy at the tusks of a farm-yard dog; but he was too good a judge to “kick against the pricks.” He saw it was no go, and assuring his worship he was as safe as if he were wrapped up in a ball of his own flannel, he saw him safely through the surrounding multitude. An immediate retreat was beaten up the main road, and Jack lost no time in undoing what he had done, and packing his traps, as before, under the wings of a cab, with which he followed his friends.