'In the battle royal, an unlimited number of fowls are pitted;
and after they have slaughtered one another, for the diversion
(dii boni!) of the otherwise generous and humane Englishman, the
single surviving bird is to be esteemed the victor, and carries
away the prize. The Welsh main consists, we will suppose, of
sixteen pairs of cocks; of these the sixteen conquerors are
pitted a second time; and, lastly, the two conquerors of these
are pitted a fifth time; so that (incredible barbarity!)
thirty-one cocks are sure to be most inhumanly murdered for the
sport and pleasure, the noise and nonsense, nay, I may say the
profane cursing and swearing, of those who have the effrontery to
call themselves, with all these bloody doings, and with all this
impiety about them--Christians!' Moreover, this ungenerous
diversion was the bane and destruction of thousands, who thus
dissipated their patrimonial fortunes. That its attractions were
irresistible is evident from the difficulty experienced in
suppressing the practice. Down to a very recent date cock-
fighting was carried on in secret,--the police now and then
breaking into the secret pits, dispersing and chasing a motley
crew of noblemen, gentlemen, and 'the scum of rascaldom.'

The practice is very far from having died out; mains are still
fought in various parts of the country; but of course the
greatest precautions are taken to insure secrecy and to prevent
the interference of the police.

In connection with cock-fighting I remember a horrible incident
that occurred in the West Indies. A gentleman who was
passionately fond of the sport, and prided himself on the
victories of his cocks, had the misfortune to see one of his