Ah, my men, efforts such as these will take no cities, even though the enemy should be never so open to assault.

At length a more deadly artillery is brought to bear; slowly, but with effect, the advance is made; the muslin ranks are broken, and fall into confusion; the formidable array of chairs gives way; the battle is no longer between opposing regiments, but hand to hand, and foot to foot with single combatants, as in the glorious days of old, when fighting was really noble.

In corners, and under the shadow of curtains, behind sofas and half hidden by doors, in retiring windows, and sheltered by hanging tapestry, are blows given and returned, fatal, incurable, dealing death.
Apart from this another combat arises, more sober and more serious.
The archdeacon is engaged against two prebendaries, a pursy full-blown rector assisting him, in all the perils and all the enjoyments of short whist.

With solemn energy do they watch the shuffled pack, and, all-expectant, eye the coming trump.

With what anxious nicety do they arrange their cards, jealous of each other's eyes! Why is that lean doctor so slow,--cadaverous man with hollow jaw and sunken eye, ill beseeming the richness of his mother church! Ah, why so slow, thou meagre doctor?
See how the archdeacon, speechless in his agony, deposits on the board his cards, and looks to heaven or to the ceiling for support.