Chapter IX · (continued 2)

On toeing the scratch, there was a very perceptible difference in the appearance of the men. Broome overtopped his adversary a good two inches, and was proportionably longer in reach. His weight, we are told, did not exceed 12st. 5lbs., but of this he might well have spared half a stone. There was much loose flesh about his back, chest, and ribs, and although 333 he was evidently in rude health, he had not been drawn fine enough to stand a long day’s work under such a burning sun as shone down upon the combatants during the fight. Broome, had he been permitted to take that pains with himself requisite to make him fit, would have been about as awkward a customer as could have been well conceived. As it was, however, he was so much harassed with law and other proceedings that he could not pay that attention to his training that he otherwise would have done. We think at 11st. 8lbs. his condition would be about perfection. His attitude, as he stood awaiting the attack, was admirable, and, had it not been for his fat, he would have looked all over a gladiator. Orme, whose colour is almost mahogany, is barely 5ft. 8in. in height, but is a thick-set, powerful fellow, with a frame of iron, long arms, a perfect bull-neck, and a pair of understandings fit for an Atlas. His weight was 11st. 8lbs., and of this scarcely 2lbs. was superfluous stuff. His attitude, when on the defensive, is not graceful, but he looks rough and ready, his dangerous right being across his mark, but always ready to be dashed out at the least opening on his adversary’s ribs. It was clear that there was a determination on both sides “to do or die,” and the spectators made up their minds that they were in for a good thing. Before the men entered the ring, the betting was 6 and 7 to 4 on Broome, but these odds were, previous to the fight, increased to 2 to 1, at which price a good deal of business was done. The colours having been duly tied to the stakes (blue and white spot for Broome, green, with small white rings thereon for Orme), the signal was given that all was in readiness, and “time” was called.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—​Broome, after one or two feints, approached his man and attempted to draw him, but Orme was wary, and stepped back. They both then advanced and retreated several times, Broome repeatedly making attempts to kid his man within reach, but Orme was too wary. Broome scratched his ear, as endeavouring to rouse an idea what to do next, when Orme approached and lunged out heavily with his right out of distance; Broome then let fly both hands, but was neatly stopped. Orme now went up to his man and sent out both mauleys, but Broome jumped away. More sparring and fiddling, Orme several times stopping Broome’s left. At length Broome crept close again, lunged out one, two—​his left was stopped, but his right just reached the left side of Orme’s nut; Orme returned very heavily with his right on the ribs, and after receiving a gentle tap on the forehead from Broome’s left, the latter closed, and both rolled over. This round lasted eight minutes, and at once showed to the spectators that Orme was much better on his legs and cleverer at stopping than the public had given him credit for.

2.—​Again did each man make ineffectual feints out of distance. Broome at length let go his left, but Orme jumped cleverly away. Broome tried it again, but was stopped. “There’s luck in odd numbers,” however, for, in a third attempt, he got home heavily on Orme’s left peeper, and then on his mouth, and, on Orme rushing at him to make a return, Broome turned his back and ran round the ring. They quickly got together again, when, after one or two very slight exchanges, Orme got down.

3.—​Broome, on nearing his man, led off with his left, and reached Orme’s kissing-trap. Sharp counter-hits followed, Orme 334 reaching Broome’s left ogle with his right, and Broome getting heavily home on Orme’s right eye. A few weaving half-arm hits followed to a close, and both were down, Orme under.

4.—​Broome feinted with his left, but it was no go. At length he succeeded in drawing Orme, who rattled at him, when Broome propped him heavily on the left peeper, drawing “first blood” from a cut on the brow. Some heavy exchanges followed, Orme delivering his right with terrific force on Broome’s ribs three times, and receiving heavy spanks in return on his right ogle and mouth, drawing more claret, and in the end, as Orme lunged out with his right, his head came forward, and Broome administered a terrific upper-cut in the mark, which doubled him up completely. Orme turned round, and gradually fell to the ground. It was now thought to be all over, but Orme, being in good condition, quickly rallied.

5.—​Orme, on coming up, showed marks of Broome’s visitations on his right peeper, which was beginning to close, while the marks on Broome’s ribs proved that Orme’s right had done him good service in that quarter. Broome dodged his man, and on Orme poking his head forwards, instantly dashed in his left on the dexter optic. He tried to repeat it, but was stopped. Both now let fly out of distance, crept close, and Broome made his one, two, on the right eye and side of Orme’s canister. Orme returned with severity on the ribs, and then on Broome’s mouth. A pause ensued, during which Broome put down his hands. On lifting them again he approached Orme, planted one hand on the forehead, and the other on the left lug, and cleverly jumped away from Orme’s return. Broome made two attempts to repeat the dose, but Orme got quickly away. Orme now took a turn, swung out his right heavily on the ribs, and got away. Long sparring followed, during which the perspiration came from Broome’s every pore—​the sun was insufferably hot for the time of year, and must have been distressing to both men. Caution was now the order of the day, until Broome got within distance, when he sent out his left and caught Orme on the right eye, but not heavily; this he repeated, when Orme again swung out his right, catching Broome heavily on the ribs, and jumped away. Some wild hitting out of distance succeeded, but, on their getting steadier, Broome let go his left spank in Orme’s mouth, and jumped away; again he crept close, made his one, two heavily on the left and right cheek, drawing claret from the latter. On Orme attempting to rush in, Broome again turned tail and ran across the ring. Orme followed him up, when Broome jumped quickly round and delivered his left heavily on the right cheek. Orme countered him heavily on the mazzard—​received another spank on the right cheek, when Broome once more turned his back and retreated. Long sparring for wind now took place, after which there was some mutual stopping. Broome, at length caught Orme sharply on the mouth and right cheek, which brought them to a rally, in which Orme’s right was excessively busy on Broome’s ribs, while the returns of Broome did no execution. The repeated “thuds” on his ribs made Broome wince, and screw himself up, evidently with pain; he retired, blowing, while Orme (instead of following him up) stood in the middle of the ring until Broome recovered himself. The latter now popped in his left on the right cheek, but Orme countered him with the left heavily on the nozzle, drawing claret from a cut on the bridge of that organ, which, in Harry, as well as Johnny Broome, is slightly of the Roman order. Orme also caught Broome another spank on the ribs with his right, which led to heavy exchanges, in the course of which Broome reached Orme’s mouth and right cheek, while the latter caught Broome a tremendous hit on the left eyebrow, with his right, inflicting a deep, perpendicular cut, and drawing the ruby in profusion. Broome retired, and wiped away the fluid as it ran into his ogle, Orme again refusing to profit by opportunity, and go in while his man was confused. Broome soon recovered his presence of mind, went at his man, and, after some rattling exchanges, Orme was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends, who considered that in this round he had infinitely the best of the hitting. It was a tremendous round, lasting sixteen minutes, during the greater part of which time the hitting was extremely severe.

6.—​Both came up puffing, and their countenances considerably changed since the last round. After a good deal of sparring out of distance, Broome opened the ball, just reaching Orme’s nose with his left. A second attempt was frustrated by Orme jumping away and lunging out his right most viciously at the body; luckily, however, for the Champion, it did not reach him, or it would most assuredly have “found him at home.” Broome again crept up, caught Orme on the potato-trap with his left, but was prettily stopped in a second attempt. He tried once more, reached Orme’s left whisker-bed, but napped it heavily on the sore spot, his left eyebrow, from which a fresh tap was instantly opened. Broome retreated to wipe away the carmine from his peeper, and as Orme attempted to follow him up, he met him with a straight shooter on the mouth, which opened up another spring. This caused Orme to rush in wildly, when he caught it severely on the smeller, from which more claret trickled; Broome then closed, and, after a long struggle, threw and fell heavily on Orme.

7.—​Broome led off with his left, but was neatly stopped; he tried again left and right, and was again parried, Orme returning a stinger with his right on the left eye. Orme now took the initiative, dashed in regardless 335 of consequences, and was propped heavily on the left eye. This led to tremendous counter-hits with the left, each getting well home on his opponent’s smelling-bottle. A ding-dong rally followed, both getting it severely on the mouth and nose, left and right, and Orme punching Broome’s ribs with great severity. At length they closed, and rolled over together, Orme under.

8.—​Both came up much the worse for wear. They sparred cautiously for wind, until Broome got close and sent out his left, which Orme parried, and missed his return. Broome led off twice in succession; the first time Orme jumped away, but the second Broome paid a visit to his right cheek. Orme then made his left on the chest, Broome returning with both hands on the side of his opponent’s nut and his right cheek-bone. Two more attempts were cleverly stopped by Orme, after which they rested a short time. Broome was first to recommence, caught Orme on the left cheek, and received another awkward reminder on the left eyebrow from Orme’s right sledge-hammer. Heavy exchanges followed, Orme getting well home on Broome’s mug and nose, and Broome on the right ogle and mouth. Broome now resorted to his old system of turning his back and running away, Orme after him. Broome at length turned round, let out his left, but was countered heavily on the nozzle and mouth. Heavy hits were now exchanged, left and right, and in the end Orme caught Broome full on the point of his conk, drawing the ruby in profusion, and knocking the Champion off his legs; “first knock-down” being awarded to Orme amidst vociferous cheering. This round, which, like the fifth, was extremely severe, lasted twelve minutes.

9.—​Broome came up snuffling; the crack on his snuff-box in the last round had evidently been a teazer. His left eye was fast closing, and the hopes of the East Enders began to be in the ascendant. The betting receded almost to even money, and it was clear Broome had made the discovery that his adversary was no such catch as people had expected. He, nevertheless, opened the proceedings by dashing out his left, which was well stopped. Counter-hits followed, Broome reaching his opponent’s left cheek, and receiving in return on the mouth. Broome next made play left and right, caught the gallant Orme heavily on each cheek, and then, closing, threw and fell on him. (One hour had now elapsed.)

10.—​Broome once more took the lead, but was prettily stopped. Heavy counter-hits followed, Broome on the nose and Orme on the left cheek. A close at the ropes succeeded, when Broome hugged Orme round the neck. Orme, however, punched away at his ribs until Broome released him, and Orme retreated to the centre of the ring, whither Broome followed him, and some heavy exchanges took place, Orme reaching Broome’s nose and left peeper, and Broome punishing him severely on the mouth. In the end Orme got down.

11.—​Broome, first to open the ball, caught Orme sharply on the ivory box with his left, drawing claret and loosening several of his head rails. Orme would not be stalled off, but immediately rattled in, when some heavy counter-hitting took place, each getting it severely on the nose and mouth. A break away and at it again. The hitting in this round was really tremendous, both men staggering away after the counters, and each having his cork drawn to some purpose. At length they closed, and after a slight struggle Orme got down.

12.—​Broome, in coming up, looked weak and distressed. Orme was also by no means in good order; both his cheeks were considerably swollen, and his mouth was “reethur” out of shape. Orme led off, but was well stopped. A second attempt from his right reached Broome’s ribs very heavily, and caused the latter to wince like a galled horse. He quickly got over it, however, and dashed out his left on Orme’s mouth. He tried again, but Orme stepped back, propping Master Broome on the sneezer with his left as he came in. Exchanges followed, Orme inflicting a fresh cut under Broome’s left peeper, and receiving sharply on his damaged kissing trap. In the end Orme got down to avoid the fall.

13.—​Broome, after a little cautious sparring, let go his left and right, but was short, and Orme immediately returned on his right peeper; Broome retreated, and as Orme came after him Broome sent out his left on the mouth again, drawing the cork freely. Broome now made two attempts to get in his one, two, but on each occasion Orme was too quick for him, and jumped away. In a third attempt he reached Orme’s smeller, a heavy nose-ender, which again tapped his best October. He repeated the dose on the mug, whereupon Orme dashed in, caught him on the left cheek with his right, closed, and, after a short struggle, both were down.

14.—​Orme feinted with his left, and then dashed in his right on Broome’s left ogle, a very heavy hit. Broome returned on the mouth, and then retreated; some sparring at a distance followed, and on their again getting close, Broome sent out both mawleys, but was cleverly stopped. Orme then popped in his left on the right cheek, and Broome, in getting away from further visitations, fell through the ropes.

15.—​Both slow to the call of “time,” and on reaching the scratch they stood and looked at each other until Orme advanced, when Broome tried to meet him with his left, but Orme stopped him neatly twice, and at a third attempt jumped away. Orme then again crept in and made his right tell heavily on the ribs. Broome now sent home his left and right on the left ogle and nose of Orme, repeated the dose on the nose and mouth 336 heavily, and as Orme dashed in with his right on the ribs, Broome caught him a tremendous upper-cut on the mark with his right, and Orme fell.

16.—​Orme, on coming up, appeared to have suffered severely from the upper-cut in the last round; he was evidently much shaken, in addition to which both his eyes were gradually going. He nevertheless tried to lead off left and right, but his blows wanted power. Broome returned on the left cheek, and then on the mouth, Orme’s return being out of distance. Orme still persevered, but got propped heavily on the nose from Broome’s left. Broome at length closed, when Orme punched him heavily on the ribs, but Broome succeeded in throwing and falling heavily on him.

17.—​Orme led off left and right, but was stopped; he then rushed in, and was propped heavily on the nose, and got down. (Time, one hour and a half.)

18.—​Broome rattled in left and right on the ogles of Orme, and got away. Orme followed him up, reached his chest with the left, and was propped heavily on the left cheek. Broome closed, and catching Orme round the neck, hugged him until Orme dropped on his knees. Orme then put his hands round Broome’s thigh, but Broome got away, and walked to his corner. A claim of “foul” was made on the part of Broome, on the ground that he (Orme) had attempted to pull him over by catching him below the waistband. The claim, however, was not allowed, the referee believing that Orme was utterly unaware as to where he had caught hold of Broome.

19.—​Broome again led off left and right, reaching Orme’s cheek and mouth heavily. A close, and some in-fighting in favour of Broome, followed by a break-away, and at it again, Broome delivering heavily on Orme’s nose and eyes, and drawing claret from several bottles. In the end Broome closed, and threw his man again, making the unpleasant addition of his own weight.

20.—​Both long in answering to the call of time, but Broome first up. On getting close Orme caught Broome on the ribs, and was countered sharply on the nose. Broome then took the lead, and planted on his right cheek heavily. This brought them to some sharp exchanges in favour of Broome. In the end, Orme got down on his knees, and Broome caught him on the os frontis with his left while in that position. A claim of “foul” was now made by Orme’s friends, but it was clear Broome’s blow had started before Orme reached the ground, and could not have been withheld. The decision was again “fair,” and the mill proceeded.

21.—​Broome, after one or two feints, let go his left, reaching Orme’s snuff-box with effect; slight exchanges ensued, and Orme again got down weak.

22.—​Broome, seeing his man was much shaken, at once went to work, caught Orme heavily on the left cheek, and closed at the ropes, where he hung on Orme; the latter pegged away at Broome’s ribs until he let him go, and Orme then planted his right heavily on Broome’s left cheek. Tremendous exchanges followed, each staggering from the effects of the blows, Broome reaching Orme’s left eye and nose, and he receiving on the left peeper and ribs. Broome then stepped back, and as Orme came again caught him heavily on the left ogle, and Orme fell. Both were now much distressed, and lay on their backs on the ground until time was called.

23.—​Orme was the first at the scratch, and attempted to lead off, but Broome got cleverly away, and then went at his man, delivering both hands on the mouth and nose heavily, and jumped easily away from Orme’s returns, which were sadly out of distance. Orme, however, followed him up, and although Harry met him full on the snout, he planted his dangerous right on the ribs with astonishing effect. Harry then reached Orme’s sinister peeper heavily, drawing more of the Falernian, and finally shut up the shop. Rattling exchanges followed, Broome getting well home on the mouth, and receiving a slogging right-hander on the jaw, from the effects of which he staggered back and fell in his corner.

24.—​Orme came up almost blind, but still he persevered; he feinted, and tried to get on to Broome, who stepped cleverly away, and waited for the attack. Orme did not keep him long in suspense, but dashed out left and right; the former was stopped, but the latter reached Broome’s damaged peeper, drawing more blood. Broome, however, by way of retaliation, cross-countered him on the nose heavily, again drawing a crimson stream. Broome now walked to his corner, took a sponge and wiped his eye, and went at it again, caught Orme heavily on the point of the nose with his left, and Orme dropped on his knees, Broome again catching him a snorter just as he reached terra firma, giving rise to another appeal, which was not allowed.

25.—​Caution the order of the day, both evidently tired. Orme at last led off, and caught Broome with his right on the side of his cranium, on which Broome closed, and Orme immediately got down.

26.—​Orme led off with his left, but was short. Broome quickly returned one, two, on his left cheek and mug, and got away from Orme’s return. Orme persevered and bored in, but Broome hit him straight on the cheek, Orme being again out of distance with his returns. At last he reached Broome’s ribs with a heavy right-hander, and Broome returned on the mouth. Both now retired to their corners, and permitted their seconds to wipe their phisogs for them, and took a pull of “Adam’s ale,” after which refreshing ceremony they once more returned to the scratch, and Broome let fly his left on 337 Orme’s left cheek, closed, and after a short struggle both were down. (Two hours had now expired.)

27.—​Broome set a good example by dashing out his left on Orme’s right cheek, which led to light exchanges at the ropes. Orme then walked to the middle of the ring, whither Broome followed, gave him a spank in the left eye, and walked away. He again approached his man, caught him heavily on the mouth, and in return received another rib-bender from Orme’s right. Broome now made his right tell on Orme’s ribs, and in getting away from the return fell.

28.—​Orme, although almost in darkness, led off with his right on the ribs—​he attempted a repetition, but Broome caught him heavily on the mouth and then on the nose. After some slight exchanges in favour of Broome, they again retired to their corners and had a rest, and came at it again; Orme was receiver-general, and in the end got down.

29.—​Orme again led off, but was well stopped; he tried it yet once more, but from the style of his hitting it was pretty clear he could scarcely see his adversary. He, however, reached Broome’s ribs heavily after one or two attempts, and Broome missed a well-intended upper-cut in return. The latter, however, soon approached his now fast-sinking adversary, delivered his left and right heavily on Orme’s left ogle and smeller, drawing a fresh supply of claret from the latter, and knocking his man down.

30.—​Orme came up very groggy and wild, but determined; he led off with his right, but Broome laughingly stepped on one side; he tried again but was stopped, and received heavily on the left eye and mouth, and was again knocked down. His backers and seconds, seeing that it was useless to prolong the contest, wished to throw up the sponge, but the gallant fellow would not hear of it, and he laid on his back until time was called, when he again went to the scratch for the

31st and last round.—​It was evident that he came up only to receive, and that he was struggling against nature; he was all but blind, and tremendously punished about the head, but was still tolerably strong on his pins. He led off wildly, but of course was out of distance. Broome then went to him, administered the coup de grâce, in the shape of a gentle tap on the nose, and the brave fellow went to earth almost insensible. Tom Sayers now threw up the sponge, and Harry Broome was proclaimed the victor, and still Champion of England, amidst the vociferous cheers of his friends. The battle lasted exactly two hours and eighteen minutes. All being over, all at once made for the station to which the train had been removed, the vanquished man being conveyed there on a truck. The only personage left behind on the ground was Jem Burn, who, being still a martyr to the gout, declined attempting to walk a good mile along the railway to the station, and intimated his intention of remaining on the field of battle all night. All necessity for his imposing on himself such a penalty as this was, however, avoided by the engineer taking the engine and tender which had been attached to the train down the line to the place where “my nevvy” was located, and bringing him up, sitting on a heap of coke, to the door of the carriage in which his patrons were already seated. All now quickly ensconced themselves in the train, and the homeward journey was commenced about half-past four o’clock, and the Metropolis was reached about eight o’clock, after many stoppages. On the homeward passage a collection was made for the game and resolute Orme, which reached the handsome sum of £22, and this was considerably increased at the giving up of the stakes.

Remarks.—​This battle took everybody by surprise. On the one hand, there had been continual rumours that Broome never intended fighting, that he could not possibly get himself anywhere near fit, and that the match would end in a juggle. On the other, it was asserted that Orme had overreached himself, and was flying at too high game; that he would never be able to reach Harry Broome, and must be beaten in half an hour. Our readers will perceive, by the foregoing account, that the “croakers” were far from the mark. The fight was the best we have had for years between two big men. Broome has lost none of his scientific acquirements. He is a good straight hitter, clever at stopping, an excellent wrestler, and quick on his pins. He is, however, remarkably awkward in getting away when in difficulty—​instead of jumping back, as we are accustomed to see others do, he turns his back and runs, leaving himself open to severe punishment from a cleverer tactician than Orme. Although he was much out of condition, and was hit very hard, both in the ribs and on the frontispiece, and several times was in great difficulties, he persevered most gamely throughout, and took his punishment like a thorough glutton. Should he make another match, he ought to commence training much earlier than he did on the present occasion, and reduce himself certainly to 11st. 10lb., which is the outside weight at which he ought to fight. If he does this, we think, looking at the way in which he fought on Monday, he will prove himself a tough customer to all comers, and the man who wrests the laurels of the Championship from him will have reason to be proud of his achievement. Orme, since his last battle with Aaron Jones, has wonderfully improved in science and quickness. On Monday, for a considerable length of time, Broome found it exceedingly difficult to get on to him; he could stop well, get away sharply, and, directly he saw an opening, was ready with his dangerous right, 338 which, as will be seen above, proved a dreadful teaser to the flesh-covered ribs of Broome. We consider him to be the severest hitter of the present day, and did he but understand leading off with his left, instead of giving his head, as he must necessarily do when he makes play with his right, would be “hard to beat.” The knock-down blow on Broome’s nose and jaw, and one or two of the punches in the ribs, administered early in the fight, were of such a nature as for the time to reduce Broome to a standstill, and had Orme only possessed the requisite skill to follow up his advantage, things might have presented a very serious aspect as regarded Broome’s chance of winning. By saying that Orme did not possess skill, we do not for an instant impute to him a want of ordinary boxing capability, but a want of tact in knowing when to “force the pace,” and prevent his opponent recovering wind and strength. Had Orme been capable of pursuing that system, the result might have been “a horse of another colour.” This only applies to the earlier part of the contest. After the upper-cut administered on the mark in the 15th round, a great deal of the steel was taken out of Orme, and we are informed that he felt sick during the remainder of the fight, while Broome slowly, but surely, improved his position. Although Orme now and then got again on the damaged ogle and ribs, Broome almost invariably met him on the eyes and mouth, gradually reducing his chance, until, in the last round, he was completely blind, and nature had deserted him. Some remarks were made on the novelty of the men retiring to their corners, and “taking a drink” during the rounds. We do not recollect ever witnessing a similar scene before; but the want of condition on the part of Broome, combined with the heat of the day, was a very good excuse for his adopting such a plan, and as it was resorted to by one, there could, of course, be no reason why the example should not be followed by the other. The battle, from first to last, was a manly, upright struggle for pre-eminence—​neither man attempted to take an unworthy advantage—​and had it not been for the ridiculous appeals made by the seconds on each side, would have been a model mill in every sense of the word. Such a fight for the Championship has not been seen for very many years.

Once again the Old Tipton made public his “grievance,” declaring that the award of “foul” in their former encounter had deprived him of the honour of the belt and the profit of the stakes, and that the bold Harry held the Championship by “a fluke.” Harry accepted his offer, and articles were entered into, but when £25 were posted, Broome forfeited the money down; his plea being that he had an engagement with Aaron Jones (this went off), and another with Paddock. Forfeits seem to have been in fashion in 1855. On February 20th, 1855, Harry Broome forfeited £180 to Tom Paddock, and on March 12th, £10 to the same. In March, 1856, the Tipton received £70 forfeit from Aaron Jones; and on October 2nd, 1856, he also received £80 forfeit from Tom Paddock. Pleasant times for the bonâ fide backers of men!

It would have been well for Broome’s fame had his hard-won victory over the gallant Harry Orme been the closing scene of his Ring career; his increasing bulk, as was evident to all who knew him, forbade the absolutely necessary reduction of weight which must precede anything like fitness for a pugilistic contest of a prolonged and severe character. Not so, however, thought Harry Broome. On the 12th of December, 1855, he signed articles with Tom Paddock, for £200 a side, for a meeting on May 19th, 1856, and on that day experienced his final defeat, of which the full details will be found in the Memoir of Paddock in our preceding chapter (pp. 294–303).

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From this time forth Harry fell out of the rank of claimants for the “blue riband” of the P.R., leaving the struggle for supremacy to Paddock, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and the little pugilistic phenomenon of 10st. 12lbs. who successively beat all three of them, and whose exploits form the subject of our next chapter.

Harry left London in 1856, and became the landlord of the Albion Tavern, in Warblington Street, Portsmouth, which was soon famous as a sporting rendezvous. From this house he backed several good men, the best known of whom was the unlucky Bill Bainge, or Benjamin, who as “Broome’s Novice” was twice unsuccessfully brought out to check the upward and onward career of Tom Sayers to the eminence of the Championship. For a few years following Harry was a public caterer and attendant at the principal race-meetings. The last time we met him in the flesh—​and he had then too much of it—​was at Epsom in 1865, in Gladiateur’s year, when, in reply to an inquiry after his health and prospects, he told us he was “in charge” of the Count Lagrange’s invaluable horse; we suspect as a “watcher,” for which he was formidably well qualified, physically as well as mentally. He was, however, aptly described by a friend as “all to pieces,” and this was shown by his death, which soon followed, on the 2nd of November in the above-named year, at the early age of 39 years.[27]

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APPENDIX TO PERIOD VII.

Of the numerous pugilistic pretenders who did battle during the years comprised between the Championships of Bendigo and that of Harry Broome, few deserve the honour of a separate memoir, or even of a recapitulation of their battles. The best of the fights, indeed, may be safely credited to the middle and light-weight men, who were, by their class, excluded from competing with the big ones for the Championship.

Of these, Hammer Lane, Jem Wharton (Young Molyneaux), Johnny Broome, Johnny Hannan, Owen Swift, Ned Adams, Mike Madden, Bill Hayes, Donnelly, and others, will be found in the Author’s “Recollections of the Ring,” to which the reader is referred. Here it is proposed to insert, with a brief notice, the best battle of such heavy-weights as appear in these pages as the antagonists of the men whose biographies are included in this Period.

I.—​BRASSEY (JOHN LEECHMAN), of Bradford, and YOUNG LANGAN, of Liverpool, for £100.

In the Memoir of Caunt (ante pp. 60–69) will be found the details of Brassey’s gallant contest with the gigantic Champion, October 26th, 1840. That John Leechman had fair pretentions to be selected by his patrons to do battle with “Big Ben,” the subjoined account of his fight with Young Langan, of Liverpool, in the October of the previous year, will show.

John Leechman, whose height was six feet, and weight 12st. 7lbs., was born at Bradford, in Yorkshire, on the 1st of January, 1815. His first battle, recorded in “Fistiana,” was in 1831, when, at the age of 16, he defeated one Thomas Hartley, at Eccles Moor, near Leeds, after a tough 341 fight of an hour and a quarter. On August 24th, in the same year, he took the same time to batter one Ned Batterson, in 72 rounds. He then fought, at Harpurhey, near Manchester, in May, 1833, Young Winterflood, of Nottingham, for an hour, when the affair ended in a wrangle. Brassey next met the well-known Jem Bailey, at Baildon Moor, and beat him, on the 24th of April, 1835, in 74 rounds, occupying 2 hours and a quarter; Brassey being at the same time sadly out of condition. Tom Scrutton was also disposed of in 20 minutes, 17 rounds, on January 11th, 1836; and this brings us to Brassey’s battle with the eccentric Bendigo. In the memoir of that boxer (ante pp. 7, 8), will be found the particulars of that defeat, which took place near Sheffield, on the 24th of May, 1836. Brassey’s former antagonist, Jem Bailey, now came out, and demanded a second trial, to which Brassey assented, and the men met at Hales Green, near Pulham, Norfolk. Although Brassey had won the fight in the 71st round, through the indecision or misconduct of the referee, Bailey’s backers raised a dispute, sued the stakeholder, and recovered back their money. We now come to the battle with Young Langan, of Liverpool, which, except his defeat by Tass Parker, is Brassey’s only fight worth preserving.

This contest, which was decided on the 8th of October, 1839, at Woodhead, in Cheshire, excited an unusual degree of interest, not only among the friends of each man, but throughout all sporting circles in Yorkshire, Lancashire and the Midlands. Brassey was trained near Norwich, under the personal superintendence of the veteran Ned Painter, who accompanied his pupil to the scene of action. Langan took his exercise at Bootle, near Liverpool, in company with Tommy Britton, and his condition was pronounced “perfect.” The ring was formed by the Liverpool Commissary, and at 25 minutes past one Brassey, accompanied by Bill Hall, and Gregson Green, the “sporting sweep,” as seconds, threw in his hat, and was quickly followed by Young Langan, amidst loud cheering from the Liverpool contingent. The day was magnificent, the sun shining with splendour, and as Langan lost the toss for corners, Brassey was placed with his face to the north. Each man was near upon 13 stone, but Brassey was a little the taller. An objection having been taken to the length of the spikes in Langan’s shoes, “the Morocco Prince,” who acted as his second, condescended to waive his dignity, and a file being procured, he sat down, and in a most workmanlike style reduced the sharp projections to the dimensions of “sparrowbills.” Again some delay took place in the 342 selection of a referee; this point settled, the men stripped for action. The colours, an orange bandanna for Brassey, and a green and yellow for Langan, being knotted to the stake, at 23 minutes past two the men shook hands and stood up for

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—​Each advanced to the scratch, Langan cool and smiling, Brassey looking serious and earnest. After slight manœuvring, Langan tried his left, and caught his opponent upon the mug. Brassey was impetuous, as if his anxiety was outstripping his prudence. He looked sternly at his antagonist, let fly, and planted two successive right-handers upon Langan’s frontispiece—​one upon the left eye, and the other on the potato-trap; a close, and both down. Upon Langan’s rising “first blood” was claimed for Brassey, which was perceptible upon Langan’s mouth.

2.—​Langan still wore a good-natured smile, while Brassey appeared serious, and the eagerness which he displayed was checked by several of his friends, who saw that although “his soul was in arms and eager for the fray,” yet a little more of “the better part of valour—​discretion,” might prevent an accident. A little sparring—​Brassey using his arms à la Bendigo. Closer and closer went the men, and a few smart exchanges took place, when they fell upon the ropes; a brief struggle ensued, and both went to the ground.

3.—​No alteration of moment was to be seen upon either of the men, except that Langan’s left eye seemed rather inclined to renounce the plebeian cast, and become “a swell.” Langan held his right arm upon his breast, and his left a little advanced; feints from both, when Langan shot out with his left, caught Brassey upon the pimple, and sent him to grass. Brassey’s second objected to this being considered a knock-down blow, but the referee decided “first knock-down blow” in favour of Langan.

4.—​Brassey came to the scratch with as much eagerness as ever, and scowled upon his rival. Langan was not dismayed, and the smile of good-humour, before noticed, assumed, for an instant, that of derision; he was, however, cautious, and played about actively. Brassey tried his right, was well parried, ditto with his left, when Langan receded a pace or two, and escaped a nasty one for his nob. Langan tried his luck, when a rapid bout of in-fighting ensued, which terminated in Brassey’s being thrown.

5.—​Upon “time” being called, Langan marched to the centre of the ring, and as Brassey did not appear inclined to advance so far, Langan pointed to the scratch, as much as to say, “Come to the spot, my boy.” Brassey kept his station, when Langan “crossed the Rubicon,” and a long, dodging round took place, each trying his left mauley occasionally without effect, until they reached a corner of the ring, when a slashing rally followed—​Brassey down.

6.—​Brassey was now more quiet in his demeanour, but still intent upon mischief; in fact, had he not softened down the very strong penchant for going in, which he evinced during the five preceding rounds, it is questionable whether his eagerness would not have led him headlong into mischief. Each man eyed the other with determination, Langan tried his left, no go—​again, it would not fit—​again he essayed, and caught Brassey a good left-hander upon his dial, receiving a straight left-handed one in return upon his snuff-box. A quick rally, mutual exchanges, when once more Brassey fell.

7.—​The visit which Brassey had paid to Langan’s snout was far from pleasant and the claret flowed profusely; the left eye also of the young Hibernian began to puff, and increase beyond its natural dimensions. Lengthened sparring. A close; Langan got away; the men closed again, when some severe blows from the right and left took place, the punishment being about equal, and in the struggle both went down, Langan first on the floor.

8.—​The concluding rally of the last round had not been mere play, for each man’s phisog bore striking proofs of handy work. Brassey was cut over the right eyebrow, and was bleeding copiously; and Langan’s left was following suit, except that his wound was under the eye, and his opponent’s over. Extreme caution was now the password. Sparring, and no attempt at a single blow for nearly six minutes, which drew forth some volleys of hisses at the tardiness of the performers. Two minutes more elapsed, and no inclination to go to work, when Langan tried his left, missed, and caught a tremendous left-hander upon his nut, which, we fancy, suffered less than his assailant’s knuckles, and Brassey slipped down.

9.—​Langan evidently wished to repay Brassey for his kindness, and planted two successive right-handers, one upon his weasand, and the other upon his nob. (Loud cheers for Langan.) A close, both down.

10.—​Sparring and manœuvring (5 to 4 on Langan). Brassey looked daggers, made a feint with his right, and made a lunge with his left upon Langan’s body corporate. Langan quickly tried a right-handed return, 343 failed, immediately seconded his intention with an effectual one, when some excellent counters ensued, and Brassey went down.

11.—​The men met, when Brassey dropped his arms straight down, looked and nodded to his opponent. Langan maintained his position, and smiled (loud applause). Protracted sparring. Dodging all round the ring: another halt; more procrastination. (“Go to work,” cried the Morocco Prince; I’m tired of this sort of play.”) All was of no avail, the men still continued sparring, at last an indifferent rally ended suspense, and Brassey was thrown. This round lasted sixteen minutes and a half, and no real work done.

12 and 13.—​Mutual returns, with considerable bodily exertion, both down in the struggle.

14.—​Very slight variation from the two last.

15.—​Counters. Brassey lunged out, and gave Langan an effective muzzler, receiving an excellent left-hander by way of “change,” upon his brow, which set the crimson flowing. Langan went to his antagonist, when Brassey slipped and fell.

16.—​Langan’s lip began to swell, and the gash under his left eye still emitted the claret. Brassey’s first wound was quite dried up, and a stranger might have pronounced it three or four days old. After a little sparring, Langan shot out with his left, and fell from the over-reach of his own blow.

17.—​Give and take; Brassey down.

18.—​Langan was advancing to the scratch, when some cowardly rascal pitched a clod at him, which struck him on the hip, without doing any damage. A tedious round, when Brassey fell, escaping in his fall a right-handed upper-cut from Langan’s bunch of fives.

19.—​Hit for hit; when Langan, in striking out, as Brassey jumped back, caught him just below the belt with his right. An appeal, but the referee decided the blow to be unintentional, and consequently fair, and the fight proceeded, Langan getting the worst of the rally; both down.

20, 21, 22, 23, 24.—​All in favour of Brassey. A great uproar and confusion took place in the last round, in the outer ring, which threatened an interruption of the mill, but, after some delay, the tumult was quelled, and the spectators resumed their stations.

25 to 33.—​Each of these rounds were, more or less, in favour of Brassey, although he was invariably undermost.

34.—​Langan’s frontispiece was sadly disfigured, whilst Brassey’s was tolerably symmetrical. This may be accounted for from the fact of Brassey’s flesh not swelling, nor his wounds remaining fresh, but quickly assuming the appearance of cuts of some standing. From this to the 39th round, Langan gradually lost ground, though he never flinched from fairly meeting his man.

40.—​Another uproar in the outer ring, with the addition of a few heavy clods flying about, the Liverpool party containing some noisy members. The men proved themselves good ’uns in reality, for they paid no attention to the row, but kept to their work, caught each other’s open left hand, and delivered two terrific round swinging right-handers upon each other’s corpus. After some little fibbing Brassey went down, and Langan rolled over him.

41 to 44.—​Brassey was evidently gaining ground, and in the latter round Langan severely injured his right leg in falling against a stake, which made him lame for the remainder of the fight.

45.—​Nothing material in this round, except one dishonourable knave deliberately cutting the rope of the inner ring, and had it not been for the praiseworthy activity of little Billy Critchley in splicing the same, would doubtless have finished the mill with a wrangle.

46 to 51.—​Brassey’s friends were in transports. Victory was now booked as certain, and the rowdy upon Brassey could find no takers.

52.—​Langan rallied, and up to the 56th round may be said at intervals to have turned the tide in his own favour; nay, even bets were loudly proclaimed, but little tin was sported.

57.—​Brassey was evidently at sea, and the Langanites bawled most lustily. Compliment for compliment, each party alternately cheering on their man until Brassey fell.

58 to 62.—​Both men fought well and to win. Brassey’s lower lip had received some stingers from his opponent in the way of cutting and carving, while Langan’s phisog was quite the reverse of what Lavater would term “the exquisite,” strongly reminding us of Kenney Meadows’s “Gallery” portrait of the “Man wot won the fight.”

63.—​To all appearances it was now extremely doubtful which would be the victor. Hit for hit—​right and left—​give and take—​advance and retreat, until both heroes fell over the ropes and out of the ring.

64.—​Brassey came up and lost no time in drawing the claret from Langan’s right peeper, but slipped down from exertion.

65.—​Langan’s mug was awful, his left ogle nearly closed, and he looked more languid than in any round previously; this and the 66th round told against him.

67.—​One effort more; Brassey missed his left, Langan grasped him, and with a vigorous strength which we at this time thought he did not possess, threw him heavily.

68.—​From this to the 73rd round Langan gradually continued losing, his left eye being quite closed, his right much swollen, and his lips as thick as those of Massa Molyneaux; Brassey seemed recovered, and was nearly as fresh as ever.

74.—​Brassey, bent upon finishing as soon 344 as possible, met his man, delivered his left, then retreated, and as Langan stumbled forward, delivered two tremendous right-handed blows, which felled him to the ground.

75.—​Upon time being called, Langan was deaf to the cry, and Brassey was pronounced the conqueror after a protracted struggle of two hours and thirty-five minutes.

Remarks.—​The instant the men had peeled the disparity in height and length of arm was apparent, which nothing short of superior science and activity on the part of Langan, which he certainly did not possess, could have overcome. In science Brassey is fully equal to Langan, while in lasting power he is his superior. In the quality of game Langan proved himself a hero; he only gave in when nature left him powerless to continue the contest. Brassey was quickly himself, and walked to his carriage, and Langan, though by far the most punished, said, soon after, that he was fairly beaten. Both men left the ground, as all British boxers should, with no feeling of ill-will towards each other.

II.—​TASS (HAZARD) PARKER, of West Bromwich, and JOHN LEECHMAN (BRASSEY), of Bradford, for £100.

After Brassey’s defeat by Caunt, already referred to, Tass Parker, of West Bromwich, offered himself to the notice of Brassey, proposing to meet him halfway between Bradford and West Bromwich, for £100. Parker, (whose best fighting weight was 11st. 10lbs.) at catch weight, and Brassey not to exceed 12st. 7lbs. on the day of fighting, which was fixed for the 13th of July, 1841; a date which was subsequently extended to the 10th of August, on which day the men met at Brunt Lays, near Worksop, under the circumstances and with the result we are now about to narrate.

Though the match was originally made in Manchester, the celebrity of the men lent a metropolitan interest to the battle, and on the receipt of a letter, dated the previous Friday, naming Lindrick Common, Notts, near Eckington, on the borders of Yorkshire, as the rendezvous, the writer booked himself, on the Monday, by the North Midland Rail for Worksop. On arriving at that place he ascertained that Brassey was already snugly ensconced at a small inn on the borders of Lindrick Common, aforesaid, under the care of a liberal backer and Jemmy Wharton (Young Molyneaux). Brassey was in high spirits and full of confidence, yet we did not, upon a close scrutiny, consider him up to the mark, and there was a feverishness in his pulse when we shook hands with him that induced us to question the Black, whereon we were informed that he had made an eccentric bolt from his training quarters a few days before, and that otherwise he had not been strictly observant of the rigid discipline indispensable to A 1 condition. Nevertheless his friends not only declared him “all right,” but offered the odds of 6 to 4 in proof of their good opinion. On the same night Parker arrived, accompanied by Nick Ward, and by Jack Hunt, of Birmingham. He domiciled at the 345 “Red Lion,” where we saw him on the following morning. He was in rude health, his corpus as firm as collared brawn, and in expressing confidence he was by no means more backward than his foe. The expediency of an early meeting at the scene of action being admitted, it was agreed that Brassey should go to scale at 10 o’clock, and that as soon as possible afterwards operations should commence—​a prospect extremely agreeable to some hundreds, who were desirous of returning the same day to the distant localities from whence they had come, among whom we noticed several Corinthians of “the upper crust,” and staunch supporters of the fistic art.

Precisely at 10 o’clock we reached the Common, where an immense multitude had already assembled, in every order of vehicle, and including an extraordinary field of equestrians, who were, however, far out-numbered by the muster of toddlers, a vast number of whom had devoted the night to the exercise of their pedestrian powers. The scene was altogether most animated, and rendered not the less so by a huntsman and a pack of foxhounds taking their morning exercise in the distance. To all this, however, there were drawbacks which threatened mischief; the first was the fact of our having passed a body of the rural police for Nottinghamshire on their march to the Common, and the next and more serious, the actual presence of a worthy beak for the county of York, who, however loth, declared he could not permit hostilities to take place within his jurisdiction. Thus Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire were tabooed, but as Derbyshire, close adjoining, was unrepresented, it was at once resolved to conduct the candidates for milling fame to its hospitable meads. In the interim Brassey was found to be as he should be in “pounds avoirdupois,” and a general move to the “land of promise” took place. Of pilots there were abundance, but, as it turned out, not equally happy in their knowledge of the county; for while Parker and his friends took one road, Brassey and the Commissary, with the ropes and stakes, took another. The latter led through bridle paths of the most villainous description, which had never been traversed but by farmers’ carts, and through which it was with the greatest difficulty the carriages could be dragged, not only from the narrowness of the roads, but from the horrifying ruts by which they were cut up. At last, after indescribable difficulties, this portion of the cavalcade reached a field in which it was said the two counties of York and Derby were divided by a small bank. Here, with great difficulty, from the rocky character of the subsoil, the ring was formed, and all waited with patience 346 for the arrival of Parker and his division; but they waited in vain. It was now ascertained that the ring was still in the county of Nottingham; a fatal error. At last, when patience was exhausted, news arrived that Parker had been more successfully led by turnpike roads to a place called Brunt Lays, near Worksop, and to that place a move became inevitable.

The materials of the ring having been once more transferred to the cart in which they had been brought, another pilgrimage was commenced through paths if possible more perilous than the former, till finally by two o’clock the desired goal was reached, and a fresh arena formed. But here a new difficulty arose: the carriages and carts drew so close round the ring that it was impossible to drive back the dense masses which had congregated. There was but one remedy, and this was to carry off the materiel to a new position, where in maiden ground a more extensive field of action was secured, and the throng as it approached being marshalled with a due regard to the formation of a spacious area, the preliminaries were happily and conveniently adjusted for the accommodation of all parties; the pedestrians forming the inner circle, and the outer circle being composed of carriages, carts, waggons, and horsemen. There were scarcely less than ten thousand persons present, and a more imposing spectacle has seldom been witnessed on any similar occasion. The police were in the rear of the cavalcade as it moved, but they did not attempt to interfere, merely intimating that “such scenes were contrary to Act of Parliament,” a piece of information as novel as it was ineffective in preventing sport.

All being in readiness, the heroes were summoned to the lists; Parker from an adjacent farm-house, where he had been hospitably sheltered, and Brassey from the carriage which had conveyed him to the ground. Brassey first made his appearance, attended by “King Dick” and Hall, with a host of friends sporting their bright “yellowmen.” On throwing his castor within the ropes he was received with shouts. Parker next presented himself, under the care of Hunt and Nick Ward, and also escorted by his backers, displaying fogles bearing the insignia of the Royal Standard of England in four compartments. His reception was far from flattering, and the yells of the roughs completely drowned the friendly cheers of his admirers, but they created a strong sympathy in his favour among the advocates of fair play. Betting was commenced with great briskness, and 6 to 4 were freely laid and taken—​Brassey being of course the favourite. There was the usual admission of privileged spectators within the outer circle on the payment of a stipulated fee, and 347 the difficulty of preserving order was proportionately increased; but at last all was tolerably well adjusted, and the men commenced their toilettes. The toss for choice of position was won by Brassey, who not only took the higher ground, but placed his back to the sun, which was happily shining with great brilliancy—​more favourable weather could not in fact have been enjoyed. The colours of the men having been tied to the stakes in the usual way, a curious scene followed. Several of the partisans of each who wore colours agreed to bet them one against the other, and these were also entwined to different stakes, giving to the ring an appearance of unusual gaiety, from the brightness of the kerchiefs as they fluttered in the breeze. Umpires and a referee having been chosen, little time was lost in commencing business.

On Brassey being stripped his appearance by no means altered the estimate we had formed of his condition on the previous night. He was “unshaven” and “unshorn;” barbers being unknown on Lindrick Common, he had not been able to obtain the assistance of one of the fraternity. This gave a haggardness to his countenance—​not the most prepossessing—​which was not calculated to raise him in the estimation of the spectators. His flesh, too, appeared flabby, and there was an absence of that healthful glow and muscular development which was observable at his contest with Caunt. He struck us, too, as being out of spirits, although there was no indication of the want of personal confidence. Parker, on the contrary, was obviously “up to the mark,” his skin was clear and fresh in colour, and his muscles exhibited a tensity indicative of rude health, while his bearing was marked by unusual confidence. On standing together the disparity of size was not so remarkable as might have been supposed, although in height and frame Brassey had clearly the advantage. At twenty minutes to three o’clock the men were conducted to “the scratch,” and their seconds retired to their corners.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—​Brassey, on throwing himself into position, stood erect, with his hands well up and his head thrown back, but his manner was stiff and constrained. There was nothing of that graceful ease which distinguishes an accomplished master of the art, and which is characteristic of quickness and activity. Parker was more free in his action, his shoulder and head thrown slightly forward, and his arms free and in playful attitudes, low, but ready for a fly. Brassey waited for the assault, and on Parker making one or two dodges, showed himself well on his guard. Brassey advanced, but Parker broke away; at last Parker let go his left, but was stopped. Brassey again made a forward motion, and Parker retreated. Brassey let out his right, but was short, and Parker instantly popped in his left and fell. (Cries of “Nick Ward has come to town” from the Brasseyites.)

2.—​Parker evidently creeping in to hit, Brassey waiting. Slight exchanges with the left, when Brassey popped in his right on 348 Parker’s nose, and in the scuffle Parker got down (cries of “First blood from Parker”), and in a short time the purple fluid was seen trickling from his nasal promontory.

3.—​Brassey on his guard, but Parker succeeded in popping in his right; his left went over Brassey’s shoulder. After slight exchanges, Parker was down, his nozzle still bleeding.

4.—​Parker tried his left and right, but did not get home. Brassey rushed to him and hit him slightly on the ear with his right. He was preparing for further mischief, but Parker slipped down, holding on by the ropes with his left.

5.—​Parker led off again, left and right, but without effect. Brassey followed him, and in a wild rally, in which trifling hits were exchanged, Brassey fell back on his knee.

6.—​Parker, who was the first to go to work, planted his left and right on Brassey’s dial. Brassey tried his left in return, but was short, and Parker slipped down.

7.—​Parker short with his left and right, Brassey stepping back. Brassey attempted to return with his left, but was also short. Parker, in a second attempt, was more successful, and delivered his left on Brassey’s ogle. Brassey returned a round hit with his right on Parker’s pimple. Slight exchanges, when Parker let go his left with dire intent, but Brassey ducked his nob and got away. In a scramble which followed Parker got down.

8.—​Parker dodging, Brassey waiting; Parker let go his right, which got home on Brassey’s cheek, but missed his left. Brassey made play, but Parker retreated and slipped on his knee, looking up at Brassey as he approached. Brassey walked quietly to his corner.

9.—​Brassey now changed his tactics and led off, but Parker got away. Slight counter-hits with the left. Parker retreated, but, waiting an opportunity, popped in his left twice in succession. Brassey followed, contemplating mischief, but Parker got down. (Cries of “Foul,” but no notice taken by the umpires.)

10.—​Parker tried his left and right, but Brassey got away. Brassey advanced, hit round with his right, but was short. Wild exchanges with no effect, and Parker down.

11.—​Parker was the first to make play, tried his left and right but did not get home. He retreated, when Brassey followed him up, shoved out his left, and Parker went down.

12.—​An exchange of trifling hits, and Parker down to avoid.

13.—​Up to this time there was no visible appearance of punishment on either, with the exception of the first blood already noticed. Parker put in his left and right, when Brassey caught him round his neck with his left, and gave him a crack on the ear with his right. Parker slipped down to avoid a repetition of the compliment.

14.—​(2 to 1 on Brassey). Counter-hits with the left, but that of Brassey was more like a shove than a hit; it wanted elbow-grease, and made no impression. Brassey closed, grasped his man with his left, and was about to fib him with his right when Parker slipped down to avoid.

15.—​Brassey came up eyeing his antagonist with contempt. Parker approached him slowly, and let fly his left and right, catching him on the phiz. Brassey rushed at him to return the compliment, but Parker went down “nasty,” quite in the Nick Ward style.

16.—​Parker, as usual, opened the ball, but was stopped left and right. Brassey ran to him, hit out slightly with his left, when Parker fell on his back, Brassey falling over him, with his knees on each side of his body.

17.—​Parker hit over Brassey’s shoulder with his left, and was going down to avoid when Brassey hit him with his right hand open on the back.

18.—​Parker again hit over with his left, and Brassey followed him to the ropes, hitting, without precision, left and right, while Parker retreated and fell on his knees.

19.—​Smart exchanges left and right, Parker napping it on the auricular, and down to escape a repetition of the dose.

20.—​Parker popped in his left heavily on Brassey’s mouth, from whence blood was drawn. It was a stinging smack Brassey rushed after him in the retreat, when Parker fell, Brassey upon him.

21.—​Smart counters with the left, and Brassey again paid a visit to Parker’s listener. Parker, on Brassey’s efforts to engage him in a rally, went down.

[This falling system on the part of Parker caused many expressions of contempt on the part of Brassey’s friends, and he was called upon to “stand up and fight like a man.”]

22.—​Parker pursued his dodging system, and again delivered his left on Brassey’s mouth. Brassey caught him with his right on the side of the head, but was unable to get home with his left; Parker dropped.

23.—​A trifling exchange of hits left and right, when Parker got down, Brassey falling upon him.

24.—​Counter-hits with the left, but Brassey did not get well home. Brassey tried to bring his man to a rally, but he went down to avoid.

25.—​Parker hit short with his left and retreated to his corner. Brassey followed boldly, when he napped it from the right on the jaw. Brassey hit out left and right, missing his man, and Parker went down.

26.—​Parker hit slightly left and right, but in getting away from the return slipped down.

27.—​Brassey led off, missing his left and right, when Parker got away and went down.

28.—​Parker, as usual, led off with his 349 left, but caught it in return from Brassey’s right on the lug. In the close Parker caught Brassey round the waist, threw, and fell on him, thereby showing that he possessed strength enough if he had but courage to use it.

29.—​Counter-hits, followed by a close, in which, after a slight struggle, Brassey threw Parker on his back and fell on him. Parker in going down caught at Brassey’s face open-handed, and drew blood from his mouth. (Cries of “He’s gouging him,” and exclamations of disgust.)

30.—​Wild fighting, in which trifling exchanges took place, and Parker went down, Brassey falling on his knees beside him.

31.—​Parker led off, but Brassey retreated, hitting out wildly. Parker rushed in to him, and Brassey fell as he stepped back. From this to the 38th round little mischief was done. Parker generally led off, and occasionally delivered heavy blows left and right, which began to tell on Brassey’s phisog; Brassey was far from idle, but Parker invariably pursued his dropping system when mischief was likely to ensue.

39.—​In this round they looked at each other for some time with their arms down, Brassey laughing and shaking his flabby sides, but still fresh and vigorous. At last, on approaching nearer, Brassey let go his left, with little effect. In the short rally which followed Brassey received a heavy right-handed thump on the jaw, and Parker went down.

In a rally in the 44th round heavy blows were exchanged, Parker catching it on the nose, which again commenced bleeding, but he still pursued his getting down system. In the 46th round Brassey led off, hitting Parker on the ear with his right, and repeating the dose with his left on the mouth and nose; Parker down bleeding, and 3 to 1 offered on Brassey, although he had evidently received the worst of the punishment. Parker’s pusillanimous system of dropping excited general disapprobation, but he contrived so to time his tactics as to keep within the pale of the law. Brassey’s seconds, finding that Parker’s one two was invariably set aside when Brassey led off, urged him to let fly the moment Parker approached; from these assaults, Parker, stopping left and right, retreated, but in the 55th round went down so palpably without a blow, that cries of “Foul!” burst from all quarters. An appeal was instantly made to the referee, who, however, would not pronounce his judgment till properly applied to by the umpires, to whom no appeal was at all made, and Brassey, instead of retiring to his corner, as he ought to have done, to await a deliberate decision, rushed to take the handkerchiefs from the stake, an example which “King Dick” followed. At this moment Parker approached Brassey, struck him a heavy blow with his right, and a desperate rally ensued; heavy hits were exchanged left and right, and in the close both were down. On rising to their seconds’ knees both showed severe marks of punishment, Parker on his left ear, and Brassey on his mouth and left eye. This renewal of the combat with such mutual good will necessarily set aside the claim of “foul,” and thereby deprived Brassey of the verdict of “victory,” which would doubtless have been given in his favour.[28]

56.—​Counter-hits with the left, when Brassey caught Parker another of his terrific round hits on the ear, and after a short scramble Parker got down.

57.—​A rally, in which heavy hits were exchanged, Parker down, Brassey falling upon him with his knees. (“Foul” was claimed for Parker, but the intention was not sufficiently apparent to justify a decision in his favour, added to which, he provoked the act by his own tricks.)

From this to the 100th round the same style of fighting was pursued, with alternate changes, Parker receiving some heavy lunges from Brassey’s right on his ear, which was dreadfully swollen, and presented a most unseemly aspect, and Brassey catching it repeatedly on the mouth and face—​the former of which was cut, and the latter exhibited marks of repeated visitations. Parker went down at the termination of almost every round, obviously to avoid punishment; but although this system was cowardly, and opposed to the character of a fair stand-up fight, he contrived so to time his prostrations, as to keep himself within the pale of the law; blows, however slight, having been exchanged. The unnecessary length of the spikes in his shoes might have had some influence in the falls, but it was too clear that he wanted a heart to stand up manfully to give and take in the old English fashion. From the 100th to the 117th round the same objectionable system was pursued; but although numerous hits were exchanged, and the marks of punishment on the side of Parker’s head and Brassey’s frontispiece increased in severity, there was still no decisive mischief done. Brassey’s left seemed to be of little use to him; and although with Caunt he used it with cutting effect, with Parker he did no execution, and the right side of Parker’s face was literally without a mark. Nevertheless, 350 in the 118th round, Brassey was the favourite at 2 to 1. From the 118th to the 127th round, during which time the same style of tactics was adopted, little visible alteration took place in the spirits of the men, both coming to the scratch with confidence, but slowly. In the latter round, however, Parker succeeded in delivering a heavy blow with his right on Brassey’s nob, who fell in a state of apparent insensibility. All was now thought to be over, and a simultaneous rush took place from all quarters to the ring. “Time” was called, to which Brassey did not respond. Parker, for whose personal safety from the crowd apprehensions were evidently entertained, was almost immediately taken away, his seconds and friends claiming the battle. To the astonishment of all, however, Brassey rose, and declared his readiness to renew the combat, a claim which the referee, when appealed to, allowed; for although more than eight seconds had elapsed, by which time he ought to have been at the scratch, still, as he had not been duly summoned—​the umpires having, in the confusion, neglected their duty—​he was fairly entitled to the advantage. In like manner it was determined that Parker, who quitted the ring without first going to the scratch, to which he had not been called, was absolved from the penalty of the loss of the battle to which his absence might otherwise have exposed him.

[This, again, imposes on seconds and umpires the absolute necessity of obtaining a perfect knowledge of their duty, and strictly adhering to its dictates. From the great confusion which prevailed in this instance some excuse may be found, but it only confirms our repeated observations on the great disadvantage arising from permitting throngs of partisans to congregate close to the milling arena, who, by shouts and exclamations, tend to interfere with that cool and dispassionate judgment which the umpires and referee should be permitted to exercise, and which, in ancient times, was perfectly secured, none but the umpires and referee being then permitted to sit close to the ropes and stakes.]

Some delay took place before Parker returned, one of his seconds declaring he had been knocked down, an assertion which proved without foundation, although on his way to his carriage he had certainly fallen, and execrations were showered upon him from the friends of Brassey.

With the 128th round the fight was renewed, but amid such a riotous display of party feeling from the crowd, which could not be driven back from the ring, that it was difficult to note the changes which took place. Brassey exhibited unshrinking “game,” and succeeded in planting some heavy blows with his right on Parker’s ear, while the latter was occasionally equally successful in delivering his left and right on his opponent’s disfigured mug. Parker, as usual, preserved his cautious or rather questionable generalship, and no sooner found himself in danger than he got down. In point of freshness he had a decided superiority over the unfortunate Brassey, and not only hit oftener but harder. In the 143rd round he planted the first heavy body-blow with his right, the effects of which were instantly visible on Brassey’s countenance, who was almost doubled up with pain. In the next round he was equally successful with his left on the body, and Brassey was again down. For the three succeeding rounds Parker fought not only with renewed vigour but with a more manly and determined spirit, a change sufficiently amounted for by the almost helpless state of his antagonist, who was down in every round.

The friends of Brassey now saw that all hope of a favourable change was extinguished. The ropes were cut, and a crowd armed with sticks and bludgeons rushed between the men, and prevented the possibility of the continuation of the fight. The most dreadful confusion prevailed, during which Brassey lay at full length with his head resting in his second’s lap, who sat down on the ground to receive him. He was evidently in a helpless state, but still he refused to give in, declaring himself perfectly ready to renew the contest whenever the ring was cleared. Persuasions and entreaties were all in vain to induce the interlopers to retire. Parker’s seconds claimed the battle; but this would not be conceded; and after a long wrangle between those who wished the fight to be drawn and those who wished it to be concluded, a body of horsemen were admitted within the outer circle, who instantly galloped round the fragments of the ropes and stakes yet left standing, and effectually succeeded in clearing the area. Those within the ring then retired, and with some difficulty the ropes were spliced and the ring assumed something of its original form. Brassey still continued to lie prostrate on the earth, but there being no further impediment to his once more resuming the battle he was again called to the scratch. He came up quite groggy, while Parker, on the contrary, was fresh, and apparently as strong as when he commenced the battle.

It was soon seen that the forebodings of Brassey’s friends would be confirmed, and that his chance of success had indeed vanished. In fact, Parker hit him as he liked, his boldness increasing as his sense of danger diminished. Still, from the 148th to the 156th round, Brassey came valiantly to the scratch, but was down in every round, and was obviously incapable of stemming the current of misfortune. His friends again forced themselves into the ring; but “King Dick,” feeling the folly and foreseeing the danger which a repetition of punishment under such circumstances might incur, refused to second him any longer, and the unfortunate fellow at last consented 351 to give in. He then shook hands with Parker, who although thus crowned with the wreath of victory, was certainly not entitled to praise for either manliness or gallantry. He retired from the field perfectly fresh with few marks of punishment, save those on his left ear and on the left side of his caput, which were certainly most wofully damaged. Brassey was completely exhausted, and almost in a state of stupefaction from the repeated visitations, left and right, to his knowledge box. His lip was split, and in other respects his punishment sufficiently testified that he had not left off till nature had deserted him. It is needless to say that his friends and himself were deeply mortified and disappointed by the result. The fighting was rapid, time called quick, and the rounds extremely short, which will account for the number of rounds is so limited a period.

Remarks.—​We candidly confess that from first to last we never witnessed a fight the conclusion of which was less satisfactory. We have more than once expressed our disgust at that species of tumble-down fighting by which men, regardless of the principles of fair stand-up boxing, seek to punish others, while by cowardly subterfuges they escape punishment themselves. It is a species of paltry cunning to which no true British boxer would have recourse, and which in Parker’s case, as well as that of Nick Ward, admits of no apology. It is ridiculous to say that such manœuvres are consistent with good generalship, or excusable when small men are opposed to men of greater bulk; because, if small men are incapable of fighting men of larger size by fair means, it is not incumbent on them to enter the lists at all. But here the disparity of size was by no means such as to justify the adoption of such a mode of defence. From the first it was clear that Parker was not only the better fighter left and right, but was the harder hitter; and if he had had the courage to exercise those physical qualities which he possessed, and fought fairly and manfully at his man, there is little doubt that he would have brought the combat to a similar issue in one-third of the time. That he actually went down without a blow in more instances than one the spectators must have been perfectly satisfied, although on those particular occasions the appeals to the referee were not legally and properly made; and that he frequently went down equivocally is equally certain, but he had always self-possession and cunning enough to take care that he did not have recourse to these tricks except under circumstances where no adverse decision could be formed. He was repeatedly warned by the referee, but he declared solemnly he could not help it. On quitting the ring he vauntingly forewarned Caunt, who was present, that he would ere long have a tussle with him for the Champion’s belt, but we apprehend this is idle bounce, which he will be very unlikely ever to realise. With regard to Brassey, he utterly disappointed the anticipations of his friends. He no longer presented the formidable front by which he was distinguished in his contest with Caunt; he seemed, in fact, to have lost that gift of hitting left and right of which the head of Caunt, after their fight, afforded such signal testimony. His left hand appeared to be utterly ineffective, and when he did hit with it it was rather a shove than a blow, while the hits with his right hand were anything but decisive, although from their repetition they seemed at one time to threaten the ultimate defeat of his shifty antagonist. Of Parker’s cleverness and pusillanimity the reader will find further examples in the account of his defeat by Perry, the Tipton Slasher, in our memoir of that boxer, forming Chapter IV. of this volume.

This was the last appearance of Brassey in the P.R. The poor fellow was evidently on a downhill course, and died at his house, the “Coach and Horses,” Todd Street, Manchester, in 1845.

III.—​TASS PARKER, of West Bromwich, and HARRY PRESTON, of Birmingham, for £100.

As the name of Harry Preston has more than once occurred in connection with the subjects of Memoirs in our history, and was at one period of his career thought good enough for a match for £300 with Young 352 Dutch Sam (see Pugilistica, Vol. II., p. 388), we shall here give his last battle, which was also memorable as being Tass Parker’s first Ring victory. The articles, which fixed the 8th of May, 1838, as the day of meeting, and the stakes to be fought for at £200, and further stipulated that Preston should confine himself to 11st. 7lbs., were duly complied with, Preston, on the morning of fighting, balancing 11st. 6lbs., which many considered 8lbs. below his best standard. Harry, it must be borne in mind, was an “old stager,” having credited to him, in the previous ten years, seven victories, two draws (one with Young Dutch Sam, already alluded to, the other with Davis, of Birmingham, whom he afterwards conquered), and but one defeat, and that by the scientific Jem Wharton (Young Molyneaux). It was, therefore, to be expected that 6 to 4 was readily offered on Preston, and that the defeat of Parker, who, notwithstanding his admitted superior skill with the gloves, had been twice beaten by the renowned Hammer Lane, with a prevalent doubt of his gameness, should have been booked as a certainty; the sequel, however, proved that in the Ring, as on the Turf, “public running” is not always to be implicitly relied on.

On the morning of the event we found ourselves in Sawley, a village in Derbyshire, eight miles south-west of Nottingham, where we were introduced to Preston, at a “public” on the banks of the Trent, wherein he had taken up his quarters. He spoke confidently of his prospects of success, and treated his reduction of weight as by no means reducing his capabilities. We, however, did not share his opinion; though lighter bodily, his face struck us as more puffy than is consistent with perfect training, and he did not impress us with the idea of a man hardened by his exercises. Of Parker’s whereabouts we could learn nothing; and a warning being given that “a magistrate was in the village with an escort of police,” Preston was hastily disguised and got out of danger; and not a bit too soon, for scarcely was Preston on the road to Appleby, when a clerical “beak,” with a constable and three or four “specials,” armed with a warrant for “three counties,” as we were informed, made their unwelcome appearance. In justice to these officials, however, we must say that they behaved in what poor Jack Scroggins called “a gentlemanlike sort of a way,” and gave all to understand that they should exercise their undoubted powers with moderation, and that if “the peace” of Derbyshire was unmolested, their function would then and there cease. Away, then, for Leicestershire, towards Ashby-de-la-Zouch—​renowned in days of old for 353 its tournaments and “passage of arms”—​was the word. Now, as fighting Ashby (fifteen miles from Leicester) was about seventeen from where we then were, and as it was already past twelve o’clock, the “fixture” was indeed a damper, many remembering how they were thrown out when Caunt and Bendigo held their first “joust” at Appleby. The cloud, however, passed away when, about a mile and a half beyond Castle Donington, a hint was given that in a field not three hundred yards from the turnpike-road, yet out of view of it, a secluded spot was at the service of the weary wayfarers. A general halt was made; each man was temporarily housed in an adjacent “Tom and Jerry;” and these establishments being each luckily provided with considerable stabling, every stall and shed was at once occupied by vehicles and quadrupeds, while the bipeds consumed every eatable and drinkable, to the last loaf and the last “tilt of the barrel,” in both establishments. These despatched, word was brought that the Birmingham Commissary had pitched his stakes, and all moved off to a pretty dell, where, on a nice bit of turf, surrounded by gentle slopes thickly wooded, the lists were formed; not a few aspiring countrymen and youths ascending the trees nearest the ring, and forming a “rookery” whence a vocal, but not very musical, “cawing” was heard at intervals of the fight.

At two o’clock precisely, Preston made his appearance, and shied his pimple-coverer into the ring; an example immediately followed by Parker, who stepped briskly into the arena, and with a good-humoured smile went up to Preston and shook hands with apparent cordiality. There was a buoyant springiness in Parker, and a confidence in his appearance, which seemed to say “I mean winning, and nothing else.” Preston’s manner was more subdued—​he looked serious, but exhibited nothing like distrust in his own powers. Betting was 6 to 4 on Preston, which, in a few instances, was taken, Parker’s partisans seeming doubtful of their man. The colours having been fastened to the stakes, and umpires and a referee chosen, the men stripped. Parker’s condition appeared excellent—​he looked as fine as a star, and weighed exactly 11st. 4lbs. Preston looked delicate—​his flesh did not appear firm, nor had it the roseate hue of health. At fourteen minutes after two the men came to the scratch—​Peter Taylor and Nick Ward seconding Parker; and Dick Davis and Holland, both of Birmingham, performing the same friendly office for Preston. After the usual formalities,

354

THE FIGHT

Commenced, Preston having the sun shining brilliantly in his face. “It will be a merry fight,” said Taylor, who had been taking the odds of 3 to 2; “but my man is in a merry mood, and means winning, and nothing else.” Preston’s attitude was good; he appeared ready either for the offensive or defensive, and watched his man closely, who was also on the alert; Preston trying to draw him, and making two or three feints, but Parker was wide awake. Preston made a hit, but Parker jumped back, keeping his hands well up. After two or three feints, Preston hit right and left; Parker countered; several exchanges, slightly in favour of Preston. A smartish rally, each trying to give the upper-cut; a short struggle, and both down, Preston under. “First blood” was claimed for Parker, and admitted; it was from a slight blow on the mouth. This round occupied four minutes, and was in favour of Preston; but the Parkerites were uproarious, Tassey having gained the first event.

Round 2.—​After sparring for some time, neither man liking to commence operations, Preston put in a tidy one with his left on the ribs without a return; more sparring; Preston got in his left, and Parker countered well. Both on their mettle, and rapid exchanges of compliments passed, each anxiously trying to give the upper-cut. Parker planted a facer, and Preston returned under the left ear. Loud cheering for both men animated them to redouble their exertions; and after a sharp and merry round, in which there was good fighting on both sides, both down, Preston under. Preston had rather the best of this round. This round lasted 16 minutes.

3.—​Long sparring; Preston trying to “gammon” his man to begin, but Parker seemed to be down to Preston’s moves. At length Preston led off with his left, which was well stopped; Parker countered smartly, and fought well before him, boring his man, who gave his head away. Preston tried to give the upper-cut, but failed. “Give and take as much and as quickly as you can” appeared to be the motto of each, and they rattled away merrily without any decided lead to either. This was the best-contested round in the fight, and Parker proved himself a better man than many anticipated. He stood well to his gun, and not a few thought Preston began not to fancy his man quite so much. Indeed, Harry found him stick closer to him than he expected, and a much sharper fighter than he had calculated upon; still, the round was, if anything, favourable to Preston. 25 minutes had elapsed.

4.—​The effects of the last round and the heat of the day appeared not to suit Preston. He had a slight mouse on the left eye, when he came to the scratch, and hemmed several times, as if a “little” touched in the wind. Preston manœuvring to draw his man; Parker hit short. After sparring for some time, Parker put his hands down as a “ticer.” After a little more sparring, Parker made his one-two without a return, and followed his man briskly. Preston’s face covered with perspiration, both hit together; exchanges, Parker driving his man to the ropes, where he fell, Parker upon him. (Shouts for Parker, and cries of “He’s got Harry; where’s your 6 to 4?”)

5.—​This was a short round; Parker took the lead, and hit his man well and smartly, gave him no time for parrying, but bustled away. Preston relished this mode of attack so little that he turned from his man. (“What do you say now? Why it’s Donington Hall to a cowshed!” exclaimed Peter Taylor. “Oh, my man’s got him beautifully—​it’ll soon be over.”) Parker stuck to his man; delivering rapidly as he went in, and Preston went down.

6.—​Preston looked as if he meant mischief, but was fearful of going in; after he had made a few feints, Parker went boldly in, hitting away right and left, and, to avoid punishment as well as fatigue, Preston went down in a short rally. (“He’s coming it”—​the Tassites uproarious, and the layers of odds rather blue.)

7.—​Parker found he had got his man, went to work instanter, and drove him before him, and Preston fell outside of the ropes. (“He’s done for!” was the general exclamation of the Parkerites).

8.—​Parker determined not to give a chance away, commenced fighting instanter; Preston giving his head, and making no defence, slipped down. (Cries of disapprobation.)

In the next round Preston was driven out of the ropes; and the three following rounds were all one way. It was clear that Preston’s chance was gone. From the fourth round he appeared to fight like a man who had either made up his mind to be beaten, or was so dreadfully out of condition that he had not the power to make any defence. At the end of the thirteenth round, on being lifted up, he could not, or would not, stand; and his seconds gave in for him. Preston’s friends said he was seriously hurt, in a very tender part of the body, by Parker falling upon him. He certainly looked faint and ill, but Parker’s friends denied the assertion, and the Brums were loud and deep in their expression of disgust and indignation. Time 40 minutes.

Remarks.—​The fight was over at twenty minutes to three, and certainly disappointed every one who saw it; after the third round Preston appeared to be “down on his luck;” still, many thought he was only “gammoning,” but the conclusion of the fourth round convinced the most sceptical that the glory of Harry had departed, for 355 he never stood well up to his man afterwards. He gave his head every round, and fell to avoid punishment in a manner that excited feelings of contempt. Parker from the first showed great confidence; when he found he had “got his man,” he bustled in and gave him no time for breathing, and although two pounds the lighter, proved himself by far the stronger man; he used both hands well and quickly. Among the members of the Ring on the ground were Hammer Lane and his brother Surrender, Lazarus, Johnny Broome, and Bill Atkinson; Caunt, Merryman, and several others were thrown out. Preston exhibited no severe marks of punishment, excepting a mouse under the left eye, and a swelling of the left ear, although Parker appeared to have given him several “hot ’uns.” Parker appeared as fresh as when he began. If, as Preston said, “He never was better,” it is clear he never used his physical advantages to less effect. That he is a game man he has on more occasions than one signally proved, and his defeat can only be attributed to a falling off in power and lasting quality; while the proverb that “youth will be served” receives another illustration in Parker’s rapid success when he found his adversary’s strength had left him. Tom Spring being stakeholder the money was handed to the victorious Tass at the “Castle,” Holborn, on the ensuing Thursday week, who then and there challenged Britton of Liverpool. With that boxer Tass fought, on the 8th May, 1839, a drawn battle. Britton was subsequently arrested, and bound over for twelve months. The men met again on the 9th of June, 1840, when Parker was victorious after 77 rounds fought in 1 hour and 50 minutes, and was thereafter matched with Brassey of Bradford, with the result we have already narrated in a former page.

Harry Preston appeared no more in the 24-foot after this defeat. He died at Birmingham on the 25th of February, 1850, in his 41st year.

IV.—​AARON JONES AND BOB WADE (THE DOVER CHAMPION).

“’Tis not in mortals to command success,” says Addison in his sententious “Cato,” though they may “do more—​that is, deserve it.” Aaron Jones, born in 1831—​who, in his first essay in the Ring, at the age of 18, had the ill luck to encounter the formidable Harry Orme (in 1849), when he fought him for 2 hours and 45 minutes, at Frimley, as we have already narrated—​was a notable instance of this. Jones’s after-defeats by Orme, Paddock, and Tom Sayers being herein set down, we now propose to resuscitate and “photo” the only gleam of sunshine in Aaron’s clouded career. This was his battle with Bob Wade, called the Dover Champion, on the 24th September, 1850.

From the time of Jones’s first defeat he had been anxious for a second customer; but his friends dissuaded him, and gave him the good advice to wait until another year or two had hardened gristle into bone, and set the stamp of endurance on his frame. The youngster, however, was impatient and importunate, and a cavalry officer, to whom Jones had been known in his boyhood, and who was a constant visitor at Jem Burn’s, on Jones calling his attention to a challenge from Bob Wade, offering himself as a candidate 356 for the favours of any 12 stone man, for the small stake of £25 a side, consented to find the quarter of a hundred needful for the match. To improve the amount for the men, it was arranged that they should join in hiring a train on the South Eastern line, in conjunction with the clever little Joe Hoiles (“The Spider”), who was articled to do battle with Jemmy Madden, on the 24th of September. Accordingly, the “excursionists” repaired, on the morning of that day, to the London Bridge terminus of the South Eastern; for as yet the London, Chatham, and Dover was not. The day was delightful, and the destination, Edenbridge, Kent, was reached by noon. Here the travellers alighted at the foot of a rude set of steps cut in the turf embankment. These surmounted, a walk of a few hundred yards down a shady lane, out of sight of travellers by the rail, brought Tom Oliver’s roped square in view, and the smaller couple of heroes were soon at work. After a lively exhibition of game and resolution on one side, and artistic skill, with precise and cutting execution, on the other, “The Spider” succeeded in knocking his sturdy little opponent out of time.

The bantams having settled their difference of opinion, the bigger brace of “unfeathered bipeds” appeared in the pit—​we beg pardon, the ring. Jones looked youthful, fair, cheerful, and symmetrical; his height 5 feet 11 inches, his weight 11st. 7lbs. Wade, on the other hand, was a brown and hardy veteran, his look as solid as his carcase, and his weight the same as Jones. His more compact frame, however, gave him quite two inches less stature than the Young’un. Jones had two excellent seconds in Alec Keene and Bob Fuller, while Wade had no reason to complain, having the services of the gallant Jack Grant and the accomplished Bill Hayes. It was currently reported that Jones had made rapid improvement since his encounter with Harry Orme, in the previous December, and hence he had the call in the betting at 5 to 4. We prefer giving a description to a mere numbered detail of the rounds.