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I saw a student sharpening his sword ; only 

 the tip is sharp, all the rest is blunt. I then 

 walked in and was shown up into a gallery. 

 All the students were sitting around drinking 

 beer, except a few in the centre of the room. 

 These were dressing up two men who were 

 going to fight, putting pads over their mouths 

 — they have to breathe through their noses — 

 also pads over their necks, and goggles over 

 their eyes, and their ears are fastened tight to 

 their heads with a sort of glue. There had 

 evidently been a lot of fighting already, as the 

 floor was reeking with fresh blood, which has 

 stained the soles of my new Peter Yapp two 

 guinea patent leathers. Soon the whole assembly 

 stood up, and the seconds shouted something 

 which I presume meant "begin!" and then 

 slash ! slash ! slash ! only three cuts and all was 

 over for the first round. They were im- 

 mediately surrounded by their parties, each 

 party wearing different colours, and their 

 wounds were looked to, and, if necessary, 

 were mopped up with cotton wool. Then 

 another round — just two or three cuts at each 

 other, all the work of a second, and so on 

 till eight or nine rounds had been completed, 

 and they were both streaming with blood. 

 One of them nearly fell down, I suppose from 



