CHAPTER IV.

JOSH. HUDSON, “THE JOHN BULL FIGHTER.”—1816–1826.

Among the names which a pugilistic Plutarch might find difficult to parallel for lion-hearted, fearless, and indomitable pluck, that of Josh. Hudson may be fairly cited. “The John Bull Fighter,” as his friends and admirers at the East-end fondly called him, fought his way into the battle of life at Rotherhithe, on the 21st of April, 1797. Although fond of a mill from his youth upwards, the juvenile John Bull earned the character of a thorough good-natured fellow, and this he preserved through life. There was no ferocity in Josh.’s composition, though once aroused in the fight his hitting was truly terrific, and his gameness in receiving as remarkable as his readiness in refusing to take an advantage of his adversary. Josh, was by no means an uninformed man, and, barring a propensity for practical jokes—a common thing in his day—remarkably inoffensive.

Josh.’s first reported contest was with Jack Payne, the butcher, at Dartford Brim, October 22, 1816, for ten guineas a-side. Jack, when he pleased, could fight well, but he was thought, not without reason, to lose pluck whenever he had not the “lead” in his hands. He soon found he had “caught a Tartar” in young Josh., for in thirty-five minutes he cried “enough!”

Our hero now flew at higher game, and challenged Aby Belasco. After a determined battle of one hour and thirty minutes the affair ended in a wrangle; Clark and Peter Warren, who seconded Josh., taking their man away. Belasco, however, got the stakes.

Hudson’s next battle was with Street, April 5, 1817, which he won in one hour and ten minutes. In “Boxiana,” vol. ii., p. 477, “Street” is called “Connelly.” It was David, Josh.’s brother, who fought and beat Connelly. Tom Oliver and Clark seconded Josh. in this battle.

His next match was with Charles Martin, at Sawbridgeworth, for a stake of twenty guineas, June 10, 1817. Richmond and Harry Holt seconded Josh., who won cleverly in thirty minutes.

Thompson, an Essex coachman, and rather fast with his fists, fancied Josh. for a “tenner,” and challenged him within six weeks of the last-named battle. They fought at Woolwich, July 17, 1817, when, in twenty-five minutes, Thompson dropped his whip and declined any further proceedings.

Josh, having in a spree “milled the wrong person,” was bound over by the magistrates to keep the peace for twelve months. He determined to keep out of the way of mischief for that period, so engaged himself as butcher on board the Surat Castle, Indiaman. Pierce Egan embellishes this voyage with fights with nobodies, to fill up the story of Josh.’s sea life. On his return, Hudson accepted the challenge of a formidable Chatham caulker, of the name of Bowen. This rough and ready customer stood six feet two inches in his stockings, and weighed thirteen stone and a half without an ounce of superfluous flesh; while Josh, drew ten stone seven pounds at scale. The battle was truly desperate; but in seventeen minutes Josh. was knocked out of time. This occurred on March 25, 1819.

Josh. lost no time in emerging from the cold shade of defeat, and on Tuesday, April 17, 1819, a month after the last event, he entered the ropes with Williams, the waterman, for ten guineas a-side, in Essex, opposite to Woolwich Warren. There were 5,000 persons present, say the reports at the time. Hudson was the favourite at five to four. At thirteen minutes past one Tom Owen and Donnelly conducted Josh. into the ring, followed by Williams, who was seconded by Tom Oliver and Harry Holt. The first three rounds were full of manœuvring, and decidedly in favour of the waterman; but when Josh. came to force the fighting, the scene was quickly changed. The waterman, however, proved a truly game man: he was terribly punished before the sponge was thrown up; and Josh., too, had napped it heavily. It was on both sides a manly fight, and Josh. was prophesied by Tom Owen—who dubbed him “his boy”—as likely to take a top place among the boxers of England.

On the 24th of August, 1819, at the renowned battle-field of Moulsey, after Cy. Davis had beaten Boshell, a purse of 25 guineas was made up on the ground, and Jack Scroggins (JOHN PALMER, see his life in vol. i.) agreed to fight Josh. Hudson for the amount. Tom Owen and Sutton esquired Hudson, Harry Harmer and Tom Shelton picked up “Scroggy.” Scroggins hesitated, saying, he had been drinking overnight, and was in bad condition: but, added the daring little sailor, “Here goes—I’ll have a shy for it.” The fight requires but little description; Scroggins rushed headlong at his opponent, scrambling for a hit, and often losing his balance. Josh., on the contrary, was steady, and nobbed the once formidable hero with stupefying effect. When Scroggins fell at the close of round one, two to one was offered on Josh., and soon after three to one was without takers. At the end of the sixth round Tom Owen exclaimed, “It’s your own, Josh., my boy; you don’t want any seconding. Meet him as he comes in—one more like that, and the ‘pence’ you shall have.” In the eleventh and last round Scroggins over-reached himself, and came down on his knees, when Josh. caught him a stinger on the side of the head. “Foul, foul!” “Fair, fair!” echoed from all sides of the ring, for the rough and ready “merry-andrew of the ring” had many friends. The umpires decided the blow to be unintentional, and ordered them to “go on.” Scroggins refused, declaring he “was not used fair.” The purse was then awarded to Hudson. Scroggins, during the first few rounds was as full of antics as a clown in a pantomime, but soon became convinced that he was getting the worst of it, and broke off with an attempt to “snatch a verdict.” About this period Phil. Sampson, the Birmingham Youth, who had, as will be seen by his biography, a talent for quarrelling with his friends, fell out, Phil., _more suo_, talking about “serving out” Josh. at the first opportunity. Hence, after Ned Turner and Martin had left the ring (see Life of TURNER, vol. i.), on the 26th of October, 1819, at Wallingham Common, Surrey, ten guineas a-side having been posted, and a ten guinea purse subscribed by the P. C., Sampson intimated his readiness to meet Josh., and the John Bull Fighter stepped into the ring with alacrity. Tom Owen and Purcell waited upon Hudson; Shelton and Harmer seconded the Birmingham Youth. On stripping, Owen said to Josh., “Now, my boy, remember the _multum in parvo_.” “Is that a new hit?” asked Josh. laughing. “No, my boy,” replied Tom; “it’s Latin for doing a lot of work in a little time.” “I’m awake,” replied Josh.; “he won’t catch me napping.” The men stood up, and the seconds having retired to their corners, they began—

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Scarcely had the combatants shaken hands than it appeared that they had no intention to protract hostilities. Sampson dashed in at Josh. and planted a tremendous teazer flush in his ivories. Josh. returned, and some rattling exchanges followed, Sampson literally nobbing Hudson till he reeled staggering away; but he returned to the attack like a bull-dog, and went on weaving away till he was hit down. (Tumultuous applause for Sampson, and the two to one offered on Hudson no longer heard. “I’ll bet six to four, and have Sampson,” cried a Corinthian amateur.)

2.—Sampson again led off, and nobbed Josh. three times on the head. Josh. returned, and caught Phil. heavily on the ribs and side of the head. The men got into a ding-dong rally, right and left, in which unshrinking courage was displayed on both sides. The round closed by both being down side by side covered with claret.

Twenty-five rounds ensued, occupying forty minutes, all of which were distinguished for tremendous fighting. Hudson received three or four flooring hits. In one instance, in the struggle, he fell with his knee on the private parts of Sampson, when the latter observed, “Is that the way you mean to win it, Josh.?” “I couldn’t help it—it was accident,” replied Hudson. “Well, I believe it was,” said Sampson. This small trait of feeling during the rage of battle is a fine proof of the generous courage of Englishmen. Such a good fight has not often been witnessed. At length victory was declared in favour of Hudson. It was a nice thing, and dearly bought, for Josh. fainted on his second’s knee after he was proclaimed the conqueror.

Hudson, from the game and milling talents he had displayed, was next matched against Jack Martin, for 50 guineas a-side, which took place at Colnbrook, on Tuesday, December 14, 1819, when, in the second round, Hudson’s shoulder was dislocated, and of course he lost the battle. (See the Life of MARTIN in vol. i.)

In the course of the evening after the battle, Hudson, in company with a friend, called at the house of Abrams (Little Puss), near the Royalty Theatre, to take a glass of liquor. One Guyly, a big costermonger, took up some money which was upon the tap-room table, belonging to Hudson, and refused to return it. The courage of Josh. made him forget the crippled state of his shoulder for the instant, and he let fly so severely upon the nob of Guyly that the saucy costermonger quickly gave back the cash. Owing to this circumstance a report got into circulation that it was untrue that Hudson’s shoulder had ever been put out by Martin.

An off-hand match was made for Hudson against Rasher, a determined Welshman, a butcher belonging to Whitechapel Market. The latter boxer had the weight of Josh.; nevertheless, he fought Rasher ten guineas to eight. This contest took place at Plaistow, in Essex, on Tuesday, January 11, 1820. Hudson was seconded by Owen and his brother David; Rasher by Mendoza and Cy. Davis. It occupied twenty-nine minutes and a half, and fifteen rounds. After the first round, which was tremendously contested, Hudson had it all his own way. The science displayed by Josh. was much admired, and he made many clever feints with his left hand, to get the right well into play. Rasher was covered with claret, and his gameness astonished every one present, but he was too slow in his movements. He was floored in the last round; and on coming to himself wanted to renew the fight.

Hudson, still continuing to rise in the estimation of his friends, was backed against Benniworth, the Essex champion, the hero of the country for several miles round, for 50 guineas a-side. Benniworth was six feet in height, weighing thirteen stone twelve pounds; nevertheless, Hudson was the favourite. This contest took place on Tuesday, April 4, 1820, on a common near Billericay, in Essex. Hudson was seconded by Owen and Purcell; Benniworth was attended by his brother and another yokel.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—About a minute elapsed in sparring, Benniworth making numerous awkward feints, and dancing about, sometimes standing with his right leg first, then changing it for the left. He made three or four hits, but they proved short. At length Benniworth made a slight blow with his right hand on Hudson’s body. Josh. seeing what sort of a customer he had before him, made play, and let fly right and left in the middle of Benniworth’s nob, both of which told, and the claret flowed copiously. Benniworth’s left eye was much damaged. He rushed in to his opponent, when, in getting away, Hudson’s heel hung in the grass, and Benniworth made a slight half round hit on the neck with his left hand, flooring him. (Great rejoicings from the yokels.)

2.—Hudson, with much dexterity, in a sort of half-arm rally, placed three straight hits on Benniworth’s nob. Josh. also drew backwards, and avoided all Benniworth’s half round blows. Hudson now made himself well up, and planted a most tremendous right-handed blow on the nose of his opponent that floored him like a shot. (Any odds, but no takers, and the Johnny Raws all blue.)

Further description would be useless. Hudson had it thenceforth all his own way. He laughed at Benniworth, and nobbed him at pleasure. The Essex champion lost his temper, rushed in, and followed Hudson all over the ring, with his head leaning forward and both his hands open. Hudson kept retreating, and jobbing his adversary on the head with his left hand. Benniworth was a complete receiver-general; nevertheless, he succeeded in driving Hudson to the ropes; but here he had the worst of it, a guinea to a shilling. Josh. nobbed him terribly away; and in following him, floored him with a terrific right-handed hit on his nose. Benniworth, when “time” was called, was in such a state of stupor that he could not leave the knee of his second, whereon Hudson was declared the conqueror.

Thus was the vaunted rustic champion disposed of in the short space of seven minutes. As a scientific pugilist, Benniworth did not appear to possess a single point: he had no idea of fighting. From the moment he entered the ring Hudson kept laughing at him, and beat him without a scratch upon his face. It certainly was a laughable, but not an interesting contest; and it was matter of astonishment how such a boxer could have obtained so terrific a character. Upon the Essex champion coming to himself, he exclaimed, with great surprise, “Be I licked?” “You are, indeed,” replied Josh., laughing; “but you may have a round or two for fun, if you like it, Benny.” “Noa, noa,” said the champion; “as I’ve lost the stakes, there be no fun in that loike.” Benniworth, it seems, had made so sure of conquest, that he invited his mother and sister to be near at hand. The yokels had also booked it, and provided themselves with blue ribbons to decorate their hats the instant victory was declared in Benniworth’s favour.

Josh. was suddenly called into action with Spring at Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, June 27, 1820, for a purse of £20; and, notwithstanding the disparity of size, weight, and science between the combatants, Hudson showed himself a good man. (See the Memoir of SPRING, vol. ii.)

Hudson, during the time he was at Norwich, had a battle with Abraham Belasco in the long room at Gurney’s Bowling Green, July 19, 1820. In this contest, which might be termed for honour, Josh.’s shoulder went in and out three times.

Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, December 5, 1820, was again the favourite “bit of turf” for a genteel mill between a swell of the name of Williams and Josh. Hudson. Williams was unknown to the mass of sporting men; but those persons who knew him pretended to be acquainted with his prime fighting qualities, and chaffed all the old ring-goers out of conceit of their own judgment, and Williams was the favourite, six and five to four. This sort of “whisper” importance was also kept up at friendly Bob Lawrence’s, the Red Lion, at Hampton, where the fancy met to take a bit of a snack before they crossed the water, and make their “books” complete. Richmond, downy as a hammer, spoke in raptures of the swell’s superior science with the gloves. Bill Eales, who had stood before Williams many times, nay, who had given him instructions several years back, pronounced him “a downright slaughterer.” The Master of the Rolls was quite infatuated with this pink of the gloves. Martin had tried him again and again, and not having found Williams “wanting,” was this day £50 the worse for his opinion. Tom Shelton was also led away by the stream, and Spring was taken in upon the same suit. Oliver, too, was out of his know, and out of pocket in consequence. Cocker had nothing to do with the fight in question; indeed, who could make any calculation about an unknown man? Randall and Belcher, somehow or other, were persuaded into the good milling qualities of their hero; in short, there was a sort of fashion attached to the betting. The “Swell” was supported and brought forward by the swells. Judgment was shoved, as it were, into the background, or else a novice in the ring would never have been backed, at high odds, against a well-known high-couraged man, one who had often been put to the test, and admitted to be a boxer of talent. But then the shoulder of Hudson was ricketty; no dependence could be placed upon it. Things went on in this manner till about a few minutes before one o’clock, when Williams appeared and threw his hat into the ring, followed by Belcher and Randall as his seconds. The look of Williams was swellish in the extreme. He bowed in the most graceful manner, and there was a superior air about him. He paced the ring up and down for about eight minutes, when Josh., with his white topper, a fancy upper Benjamin, and a blue bird’s eye round his neck, came brushing along and threw his castor into the ring. He immediately went up to Williams and shook hands with him in the true open-hearted English style. To witness the manly act, this characteristic trait of Britons, is worth more in its influence upon society than the perusal of a thousand canting essays tending to fritter down the courage of Englishmen. Williams observed to Hudson, that he hoped there was no animosity between them. “Not in the least,” said he; “we are going to fight for a prize, and to see which is the best man.” Tom Owen and Ned Turner were the seconds for Josh. The latter tied his colours (yellow) to the stakes, and Randall covered them with the blue of Williams. Owen, who had never seen “the Swell” till he entered the ring with “his boy” Josh., observed to the latter, “Why, my chaff-cutter, if you don’t go and lick this Bond Street blade in a jiffy, the white topper shall never more be placed on your nob. My dear boy, the East against the West End for milling.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, Williams displayed a fine muscular frame, and good legs; but his face was pale, and his countenance showed him to be between forty and fifty years of age. Josh. was in high trim, and seemed confident of winning. Some time elapsed after the combatants had placed themselves in attitude before Williams let fly; but Hudson got away. Counter hits followed, when Josh.’s right eye showed blood, and the nose of the swell looked a little red. Williams made a right-handed hit, which Hudson stopped prettily, and then went to work. The exchanges were sharp and hard, but the wisty-castors of Josh. were so tremendous that he spoilt the gentility of the Swell, and positively milled him down. (Great applause from the plebeians; and Tom Owen smilingly said to Josh., “I told you so, my boy: that’s the way to clear Regent Street in a brace of shakes.” Seven to four.)

2.—Josh.’s eye was bleeding when he came up to the scratch. The Swell looked rather puzzled; but he touched Hudson’s other peeper so severely that his nob was chanceried for an instant. Hudson made a plunge with his right hand upon his opponent’s face that produced the claret, followed him up to the ropes, and punished him down. (Three to one, and “It’s poundable,” was the cry. Here Owen told Josh. he had “done the trick, and lots of Daffy were in store for him.”)

3.—The confident appearance of Williams had left him; he had paid a visit, as Tom said, to “Pepper Alley.” Williams showed game, but he had no chance to win. He, however, made some sharp hits; but the pepper-box was again administered, and Williams went down distressed. (Ten to one.)

4.—This round was the quietus; the Swell was hit out of the ring. It was Cayenne at every dose. Williams was completely done up, and his seconds dragged him up all but gone.

5.—Williams was brought up to the scratch in a most distressed state. He, however, showed fight, and with his right hand put in a heavy body blow: it was his last effort. Josh. now went in right and left, and punished the Swell so terribly that he staggered and fell against the ropes; but, on recovering himself a little, Tom Owen said to Josh., “Don’t give a chance away; a finisher only is wanting.” The finisher was applied, and Williams was down all abroad. The swells looked blue, and Josh. received thunders of applause. (“Take him away!” was the general cry.) Josh. in this round did not like to hit the Swell when he had got him at the ropes, feeling like the British sailor, so finely described by Dibdin—

“In me let the foe feel the paw of a lion; But the battle once ended, the heart of a lamb!”

6.—Williams came to the scratch in a deplorable state, and Hudson pushed him down _sans cérémonie_. When time was called he could not leave his second’s knee.

REMARKS.—Thus, in the short space of nine minutes, Josh. defeated this much-vaunted opponent. After remaining a short time in a state of stupor, Williams came to his recollection, and asked if it was over. The flash side were completely floored in consequence, according to themselves, of their calculating upon Josh.’s shoulder giving way. The Swell showed great steadiness in the first round, which occupied upwards of three minutes; but afterwards had no chance, and found out the great difference between sparring and fighting. Instead of losing so much time in sparring in the first round, as he was clearly a stale man, he ought to have gone to work. He could hit hard, and most certainly did not want for knowledge of the science. But he was too old to take; his mind might be firm enough to endure punishment, but his frame could not stand it. At all events, he should have commenced pugilism (if he wished to obtain a high place in the prize ring) some seventeen or eighteen years earlier. Drummers and boxers, to acquire excellence, must begin young. There is a peculiar nimbleness of the wrist and pliancy of the shoulder required, that is only obtained by early practice. Youth and strength, however, are indispensable ingredients in a pugilist. The backers of Williams, _i.e._, those amateurs who made the match for him, had no right to complain of his conduct. There was nothing of the cur about him; on the contrary, he fought like a game man: he never said “No,” and he tried to win the battle till he lost sight both of his opponent and friends.

Josh.’s combat with Ned Turner, when _Bacchi plenus_, and which ended in a defeat, will be found noticed in the life of that boxer, _ante_, vol. i.

A second match with his former antagonist, Phil. Sampson, was the next public appearance of Josh. This took place on Saturday, March 3, 1821, at Banstead Downs, Surrey. The torrents of rain did not deter hundreds from leaving the metropolis, and several aristocrats of the highest class were upon the ground.

At one o’clock the Birmingham Youth, followed by Spring and Randall, threw up his hat in the ring; and in a few minutes after, Hudson, attended by Oliver and Purcell, repeated the token of defiance. Spring and Oliver went up smiling together, and tied the colours of the combatants to the stakes.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, Hudson looked extremely well, but rather too fat. Sampson was in excellent condition: both gay, confident, and eager. They had tasted plentifully of each other’s quality in their former fight, and much difference of opinion existed among the spectators who had really won it. A short pause occurred, when Hudson made an offer to hit, and Sampson drew back. Another pause. Sampson endeavoured to put in right and left, which proved short, in consequence of Josh.’s getting away. After looking at each other for about a minute, Hudson went in; some sharp work took place, and in the struggle, Sampson was undermost. (Loud shouting, and “Josh., you have begun well.”)

2.—The nose of the Birmingham Youth appeared rosy. Both now began to slash away, and the pepper-box was handed from one to the other, till Josh, either went down from a hit, or slipped on his knees. (“Go along, Sampson.”)

3.—Hudson missed a tremendous hit at Sampson’s head. The latter drew the claret from Josh.’s mug by a facer; but Josh. rushed in and exchanged hits to his own advantage, and sent his opponent down. (The shouting was now like thunder—the old fanciers dancing hornpipes, the East-enders all in spirits, and the Bermondsey boys offering odds on their favourite, Hudson, six to four.)

4.—The Birmingham Youth took great liberties with the upper works of his opponent. The round was terrific. Both went down, Sampson undermost.

5.—“It’s a good fight,” was the cry all round the ring. Sampson was more than busy, and the face of Hudson was clareted. The latter, bull-dog like, did not care about receiving, so that he could go in and punish his opponent. He did so most effectively in this round, and Sampson was hit down. It is impossible to describe the joy of Hudson’s friends. (Seven to four.)

6 to 9.—These were all busy rounds, and the partisans of each of the combatants claimed the best.

10.—Sampson meant nothing but mischief, and at out-fighting placed his hits, in most with tremendous effect. In this round he went down from the force of his own blow.

11 and 12.—The Birmingham Youth always good for punishment in commencing the round; but Josh. finishing them all to his own advantage.

13.—Sampson in this round was, from the heavy blows he received, almost at a stand-still, till both down.

14.—This was a terrible round on both sides. Hudson’s mug was terrific. The men hit each other away staggering, then returned to the charge game as pebbles, till Sampson scarcely knew how he went down. (“Go along, my Joshy; it’s as safe as the Bank.”)

15.—Sampson was floored from a heavy blow under the listener. (The Hudsonites were uproarious, and offering any odds.)

16.—Sampson came up like a true Briton, and, after several severe exchanges, was again sent down.

17.—Hudson either could not, or did not attempt to, protect his head, and Sampson hit him down. (“Bravo, Sampson! do so again, and you can’t lose it,” from his friends; “you behave like a good one.”)

18.—If Josh. had not been an out-and-out bottom man, from the repeated tremendous facers he received, he must have been beaten before this period; but the more he received the more courage he appeared to have, and after another desperate round, Sampson was sent down.

19.—It was Pepper Alley on both sides, and neither appeared anxious to stop. Josh., as usual, napt it in the first part of the round, but finished it in prime style, and hit the Birmingham Youth down. (Here some hissing occurred, as it was said by a few that Hudson touched the head of his opponent improperly as he laid on the ground; but it was evident that Hudson was moving out of the way to avoid it. “He’s too high-couraged to behave unhandsomely to a brave opponent,” was the general expression.)

20.—Sampson, after a few exchanges, was again hit down. (Two to one.)

21.—It was evident that Sampson was getting weak; his knees began to tremble, but his courage and anxiety to win were strong. He strained every nerve to turn the fight in his favour, and, although he did not succeed in this respect, he was still a dangerous customer. All fighting till Sampson was down. (Three to one, and the Hudsonites quite up in the stirrups.)

22.—Sampson took the lead. The face of Hudson was pinked all over, and his head went back twice. Sampson’s mug was also painted. The latter could not keep Hudson out; he would always be with his man till he had the best of him. Sampson down.

23 to 25.—All milling; but, in the last round, Sampson was exhausted and dropped.

26.—Sampson came up distressed, and was soon sent down. (“It’s all u-p up,” says an over-the-water lad. The Hudsonites all in good humour.)

27.—No chance remained to win; but Sampson would not allow his seconds to say “No.” He came unsteadily to the scratch, but it was only to be sent down. (“Take him away.”)

28.—Sampson, it is true, reached the scratch; and although Hudson was in a bad state, from the punishment he had undergone, yet he still remained fresh enough to finish the exhausted Sampson, who went down without knowing where he was. The shouts of victory gave Hudson new life; he jumped up, put on his own coat, and was immediately taken to a carriage.

REMARKS.—All that a boxer could do towards victory Sampson attempted; but he had not strength enough to dispose of Hudson, who would not be denied. Sampson by no means disgraced his character in defeat. He was led out of the ring in a very distressed state. The fight was over in thirty-two minutes. Hudson received by far most punishment about the head; and, although quite abroad once or twice, his game was so out-and-out that he returned to fight with his opponent at each repulse as though nothing could daunt him.

A slight skirmish took place between Josh. and Jack Ford, the pugilist, on Thursday evening, March 29, 1821, at the east end of the town, over a pot of heavy. Ford offered to fight David Hudson, when Josh. said it was cowardly to challenge “a blind one.” Ford immediately gave Josh. a snorter, which produced the claret. Josh. could not return the favour till he had put the pot and glass out of his hand, when the John Bull boxer caught hold of Ford, and put in such a shower on his nob that he roared out for help, and begged of the company to take Josh. away from him, if they did not wish to see him (Ford) murdered! Josh. offered to accommodate Ford any time in a public ring, if he liked it, but observed that he must take no more liberties in future with his head, or he should answer before “the beak” for such conduct.[44]

In June, 1821, Josh., by way of keeping the game alive, offered to fight Tom Oliver for £100 a-side; and in October of the same year sent the following to the editor of the _Weekly Dispatch_:—

“SIR,—

“‘The John Bull Fighter,’ as he is termed, without meaning any offence, or a long preface on the subject, wishes to make it known that he can be backed for £100 a-side against Martin, if it meets with the approbation of the latter. Also, the same sum is ready to enter the lists with Garrol, the Suffolk champion; but if Garrol cannot get £100, I have no objection to accommodate him for £50. I am to be found at all times ready to make a deposit to the above effect.

“Yours, etc., “JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_October 10, 1821._”

The second fight which was to have taken place between Josh. Hudson and the Suffolk champion on Tuesday, the 11th of December, 1821, after Neat defeated Hickman, for £50 a-side, went off, in consequence of a demur about the stakes. An appeal was made to Mr. Jackson, who advised the money to be returned. The Suffolk champion threw up his hat in the ring, but Hudson did not think it necessary, under the circumstances, to answer it. Had the fight taken place, Tom Owen was on the ground to second his boy Josh. The forfeit of £20 was given to Hudson by consent of Garrol’s backers.

A match was made immediately after the above forfeit between Hudson and the Chatham Caulker for £100 a-side. Bowen, six feet two inches in height, as the reader has seen, had defeated Josh. a few years before, at Chatham, in seventeen minutes. David Hudson had likewise surrendered to his conquering arm. However, the gay boys—the East-enders, with ould Tom Owen at their head—said Josh. should have another shy for it, if he lost his stick. The odds were six and seven to four against him. “What of that?” said Tom Owen; “do you mind me, the bigger the Caulker is, the better mark my boy Josh. will have to hit at.” This battle was decided on Wimbledon Common on Tuesday, February, 5, 1822.

Soon after peep of day the fancy were in motion to reach Banstead Downs, the appointed spot for the mill; but the secret had slipped out, and the beaks had got hold of the scent; yet timely notice was given to the travellers, to prevent their proceeding farther than the Cock at Sutton. Some doubts also existed upon the subject on the preceding evening at the sporting houses in town, and several swells preferred starting for Croydon to be in readiness for the result. Sutton, however, was the rallying point; and after some little consideration, Smitham Bottom was the next place determined upon, to accomplish which, two roads presented themselves (and precious ones they were), when the company brushed off in all directions, and bad was the best. To describe the ludicrous incidents which occurred across the country for nearly seven miles a small volume would scarcely suffice. In many instances several of the horsemen, mounted on good cross-country bits of horseflesh, went the pace in steeple-chasing style; and, by way of increasing the effect, at one period sly Reynard appeared in view, followed by the Surrey hounds in full cry. A few of the ring-goers, who were upon horses (now reduced to hacks) which in better times were hunters, found their situations become ticklish, and one of the “Jemmy Green” fraternity, who was floored slap in the mud, observed, with a face as long as one’s arm, “That the stable-keeper had not used him well by putting him on a hunter, and not tellin’ of him.” The puffing and blowing of the poor toddler, to keep up with the carriages: gigs shivered to pieces, upset, or their springs broken; post-chaises fast up to the naves of the fore wheels in clay, altogether formed so serio-comic a sketch that the pen cannot do justice to it. Boreas, too, took unwarrantable liberties with the head covers of the company, and many a hero’s tile was not replaced on his upper story without a scampering of a quarter of a mile for it. Smitham Bottom was at length reached in a tremendous shower of rain, the turnpike was paid without murmuring, and all the preceding troubles were forgotten on the ring appearing in sight. But here another difficulty arose: the stakes had been scarcely put into the ground, when a “beak” unexpectedly appeared, attended by his clerk, and put a stop to the battle. This was a reverend gentleman, upon whom no remonstrances could prevail. A funny fellow immediately observed to the preacher, “That it would not hinder him from receiving one jot less of his tithes; but if he was determined to prevent the contest taking place, he might, in lieu thereof, be kind enough to give them a sarmon against the noble old English practice of boxing. This might have two advantages—make them disperse, if not, perhaps change their opinions upon the subject.” The only answer elicited was, “That he would follow them all over the county.” No time was to be lost, and the assemblage again hurried off in all directions to gain Wimbledon Common. The sudden influx of company which poured into Croydon, put all the good people of that place on the stare; the doors and windows of the houses were crowded to witness the movements of the discomfited fancy. The bipeds by this time were dead beat; in fact, they were off their legs. The horses, too, were almost baked to a stand-still; and the storm coming on thicker and faster, many preferred the comforts of a good inn and a prime dinner to a doubtful chase; indeed, numerous bets were laid that no fight would take place on that day. The champion, Tom Cribb, with several of his friends, being of this opinion, preferred toasting milling over a bottle of black strap to further adventures. But the out-and-outers, whom neither wind, weather, hail, rain, nor shine can get the best of, regardless of the pitiless pelting storm, braved its fury for many a long mile, without a dry thread upon their backs, till they again met Bill Gibbons, with the stakes, on Wimbledon Common. The ring was quickly made; but the spectators were select and few, some thousands being left behind. Neither had the beak pluck enough to encounter the storm or distance, the persevering ones having travelled nearly forty miles to witness the battle. At seventeen minutes to five o’clock, Hudson, attended by Tom Owen and Randall, threw his hat into the ring. The Caulker immediately followed him, attended by Sutton and Jackson, a butcher, from Chatham. The Caulker was decidedly the favourite, six and five to four. Hudson immediately went up to his opponent and shook hands heartily with him. The President of the Daffy Club (Mr. R. Soares) held “the ticker.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The person of the Caulker was unknown to the ring-goers. True, his fame had gone before him, and he had been represented as nothing else but an out-and-outer, a terror to all milling coves in the neighbourhood of Chatham, and the best and strongest man in the dock-yard. David Hudson proved a mere chick in his hands, and Josh. had been licked against his will in seventeen minutes. The knowing ones, who do not like to remain idle, and who always endeavour to get a guinea upon a safe suit, were thus induced to lay the odds upon the Caulker, and in many instances rather heavily. It was farther said of him that he was a second Bill Neat, and that his right, whenever it told, was a sort of quietus. On the appearance of the Caulker in the ring, the general remarks were in his favour—“That he was a good nobbed one, snake-headed, had the length of his adversary, and looked a dangerous customer.” However, on peeling and getting rid of the swell white upper tog (which, by-the-bye, seemed to fit him like a purser’s shirt upon a handspike), he appeared a thin, lanky man, yet with good arms. On shaking hands with Hudson, he stood over the latter several inches. The round frame and ruddy face of Josh. was in singular contrast with the countenance of his opponent. It was observed on all hands that the John Bull Fighter was too fat, when a wag remarked that the contest being between roast beef and soup-maigre, John Bull was perfectly in character. Very little sparring took place before the Caulker endeavoured to put in his right hand, but Hudson got away from its force with much dexterity. The Caulker endeavoured to repeat this mode of attack, when Hudson again retreated with success. Some hard fighting ensued, several hard blows were exchanged, and the length of the Caulker was thought to give him the superiority. Hudson planted a tremendous hit upon his opponent’s ivories, that not only made them chatter, but produced a pinky appearance upon his lips. The Caulker, however, was not behind hand in returning the favour, and put in such a slap under Josh.’s right ogle as started the claret, sent him off his balance, and dropped him on one knee; he would have fallen, if he had not been caught hold of by Tom Owen, when the round finished.[45] (The Chathamites were up in the stirrups at the success of their hero, and loudly offered to back him at six to four.)

2.—This triumph was of short duration, and Josh. convinced the spectators that he was by far the better fighter, as well as the harder hitter. John Bull was now in his glory; laughing at all danger, he resolutely went in to his opponent. Some tremendous blows were exchanged in favour of Hudson; indeed, it was all fighting. For a rally, there was never a better boxer or a more determined one than Josh. Hudson. He finished the round in fine style, and floored his adversary by a terrific hit on his knowledge box, that gave the Caulker quite a different view of the battle. (The East-enders were now dancing with delight, and offering to sport their blunt like waste paper. In the ecstasy of the moment, five to two and two to one was current betting. The Chathamites looked blue. “My boy,” said Tom Owen, “I always knew you were good at a short cut, but I did not think you could play half so well at long bowls. Do you mind me, Josh.; another such a tickler will send all the Chathamites to Gravesend with pockets to let.” “I’m awake, my Tommy,” replied Josh.)

3 and last.—John Bull came up to the scratch jolly, and eager to commence offensive operations; while, on the contrary, the Caulker came up slow and shaky; however, as a last resource, he endeavoured furiously to attack Hudson, who got away laughing. The combatants now got into a desperate rally, and Josh, received the most pepper, till he put in a Gas-light Man’s shot in the middle of his opponent’s mug that sent him staggering some yards; he appeared as stupid as a man without a nob. Hudson lost no time, but, from the length of his opponent, two blows fell short upon his shoulder, till he finished the battle by another Gas-lighter under his opponent’s ear, when the Caulker fell in a state of stupor, from which he did not recover for some time after Josh. had regained his post-chaise. When time was called, the battle had only occupied three minutes and a half and a few seconds.

REMARKS.—This last hit was an electric shock to the backers of the Caulker, many of whom were naval men. Not a few of the travellers, too, were disgusted at so short a fight after such a long and weary journey. “How we have been gammoned,” said those who had been persuaded to lay the odds on Bowen; “this man a terror to all the dock-yard men and milling ‘salts’ in the neighbourhood of Chatham? If so, what a prize Josh. must be!” When Josh. met the Caulker the first time he was a stripling of ten stone four pounds; he was now over twelve stone, had learnt much, and by his in-fighting set at nought the Caulker’s great length of arm. Large sums of money were lost throughout Kent upon the Caulker. A bright moon and pleasant air, after the day’s storm, rendered the ride home doubly pleasant to the winners.

Josh., ever anxious to be doing, addressed the following to the editor of the _Weekly Dispatch_:—

“SIR,—

“I wish, through the medium of your paper, to inform Mr. Martin that I am ready to fight him for one or two hundred pounds, either before or after his fight with Randall. Should he accept this challenge, I am ready, at any time he shall appoint, to meet him at Mr. Holt’s, Golden Cross Chop House, Cross Street, Long Acre, to make a deposit; should he refuse (having been once defeated by him), I must, to use the language he so generously adopted when challenging Randall, pronounce him ‘a cur.’ I also wish to inform the sporting world that the challenge to Ned Turner, which appeared in your paper of last Sunday week, as coming from me, I know nothing of; and be assured the John Bull Fighter, as I am termed, possesses too much of a John Bull heart to exult over a defeated pugilist; and Messrs. Old Tom and Old Time having made great inroads upon the constitution of poor Ned, it was farthest from my thoughts to give a challenge, which I know his proud heart could not brook, nor his health admit him to accept.

“I am, sir, your obedient servant, “JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_Golden Cross Chop House, May 4, 1822._”

A month or two subsequently, Bill Abbot having dared Josh. to the field, he inserted the following as an answer to Abbot’s challenge:—

“SIR,—

“With reference to your letter of Sunday last, I shall be happy to accommodate you for fifty a-side, and any day this week you will find me or my money at the Cock and Cross, Red Cross Street, London Docks, to make the match. If your friends will back you for £100, I wish to say my money is ready, and in that case I will wait upon you to make a deposit of £20, as far West as you may appoint. I went the other evening to Mr. Belcher’s, and did hope to have found you, or some friend, to have made the match; but was there informed by one of your backers it was a mistake.

“I am, sir, yours obediently, “JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_July 14, 1822._”

The John Bull Fighter was matched, at short notice, with a countryman of the name of Barlow, called the Nottingham Youth, for £50 a-side. This battle was decided on Tuesday, September 10, 1822. Great sums of money were pending, and the road from London to St. Alban’s was covered with vehicles of every description, their inmates anxious to behold the “new hero” make his _début_. Barlow, according to report, had beaten twelve of the best men in Yorkshire, and the knowing ones were persuaded into the delusion that he would swallow Josh. at a bolt, afterwards dispose of Shelton, and ultimately put out “the Gas.” So many wagons on the ground well filled with country gentlemen (particularly from Yorkshire) had not been witnessed for a long time. A few minutes before one, Josh. threw his white topper into the ring with more than usual animation, as much as to say, “I mean to win, and nothing else!” He was followed by that “special original,” Tom Owen, and Randall, also in white hats. Hudson was loudly cheered by the spectators. The backer of Josh. accompanied him within the ropes, wearing the same emblem. Barlow was not forgotten by the crowd on making his appearance arm-in-arm with Belcher and Harmer. Hudson went up and shook hands with him. Josh. peeled instantly, and got ready; but the countryman was so long in preparing, George Head lacing his shoes carefully, and a number of officiating attendants crowding about him, that Tom Owen sung out, “What are you arter, Mr. Bel-s-h-a-r; you are keeping us waiting? Your man don’t seem to like it much. D’ye mind me?” Hudson also observed, “Come, what are we waiting for; I’m ready—let’s go to work.” Five to four on Barlow.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On peeling, the frame of the Nottingham hero did not appear calculated to punish, and most of the pugilists present made up their minds Hudson must win. It is true, the John Bull Fighter was rather too fleshy; nevertheless, he was in fine condition, and, united with his laughing, open, and confident countenance, setting defeat at defiance, made a considerable impression in his favour with the surrounding multitude. On setting-to, Josh. stood firm as a rock, with his left arm extended, nearly touching the fists of Barlow, for half a minute; on the contrary, the knees of the countryman shook (by-the-bye, he was a bad-legged one); he appeared puzzled, and at a loss how to commence the attack. Josh., finding his opponent in no hurry to begin, let fly, and counter-hits took place. The ivory box of John Bull received a small taste; but the nose of Barlow napped a rap which produced the claret. Josh., laughing, said to the umpires, “First blood.” This decided numerous wagers. (The East-enders began to chevy it was all right, and the “special original” offered ten to one on Hudson, when Belcher replied, “I’ll take it.” “Stop till the round is over,” said Owen, “and it will be twenty to one.”) Hudson put down his hands and rubbed them on his drawers, but the countryman did not take advantage of this opening. Josh. saw that he had got him, stepped in, in the Randall and Curtis style, and, without ceremony, planted a tremendous hit under the listener of Barlow that sent him down like a shot. The countryman seemed all abroad. The shouting by the boys from the Tower was uproarious in the extreme, and five to one was offered all round the ring. Anything like description must fall short in portraying the emotions of the various countenances. The chaff-cutting countrymen, who had been so jolly before, were all struck of a heap; the few knowing ones, too—who knew everything about the feats of Barlow, and had been let into the secret, “as how the Nottingham boy had beaten twelve men in the country, had knocked Tom Belcher about in a private set-to, and had got the best of Gully in a bout with the gloves”—began to drop down a little, and to look blue; while the sages of the East offered “little all” that John Bull would again prove victorious. “Do you mind me, Josh.,” said Tom Owen, “it’s as right as the day; you have only to go in and lick him off-hand.” “Yes,” replied Josh., laughing, “I’ve got him safe enough now; I liked him when I first saw him.”

2.—The countryman was reduced to a mere dummy: he was quite puzzled, and came up to the scratch to be floored by Josh. in a twinkling. (Ten to one offered, but no takers. Hudson as strong as a horse.)

3.—Similar to the last: Barlow again measured his length on the turf.

4.—Barlow, although without a chance to win, showed himself a game man, and came to the mark for another shy; but it was only to be hit down. (Here the president of the Daffy Club interfered, and requested he might be taken away. The long faces of “I’s Yarkshire” beggared all description.)

5 and last.—Barlow came again to fight, but soon found himself in Pepper Alley. Belcher satisfied that he could not win, put up his arm to stop further punishment, and he fell down. Josh. jumped out of the ring as conqueror, only six minutes and a half having elapsed.

REMARKS.—The friends of Barlow showed great want of judgment in selecting such a well-known, often-tried, high-couraged man as Josh. Hudson for his trial opponent in the London prize ring. It was a hundred pounds to a farthing against Barlow after the first round; indeed, it was next to an impossibility that he should recover from the stupefying effects of so tremendous a hit. That he was a game man there is no doubt: his conduct in the ring decided that fact. This battle afforded no opportunity of judging accurately upon the subject of Barlow’s real capabilities. Hudson had not a single mark, and said it was one of the easiest things he had ever had in his life. On recovering from his surprise, in the post-chaise, Barlow wished his friends to let him renew the combat on the ground.

Josh., anxious not to let his faculties lie idle, addressed the subjoined letter to the editor of the _Weekly Dispatch_:—

“SIR,—

“You will oblige me by inserting the following challenges in your valuable paper. I understand that the friends of the Suffolk champion have been at the other end of the town to make a match against me; in answer to which I have only to say my friends are ready to meet them any day next week, where they think proper, to make a deposit, for 100 guineas a-side, to fight once within two months. I am also informed that Mr. Abraham Belasco wishes to have another trial with me. If any gentleman will make the match for Belasco, my friends will meet them at Randall’s any day next week they shall choose to appoint. I have only to add that, if either of them wish to do as they say, they must enter the ring before Christmas, as I mean to be like the rest of the pugilists, and declare off. Answers from the Suffolk champion and Belasco will oblige me, that I may know where to meet them on the subject, if they mean to come to the scratch.

“I remain, sir, your humble servant, “JOSH. HUDSON.

“_Cock and Cross, Redcross Street, October 4, 1822._”

Tom Shelton, after some delay, was matched with Hudson for £100 a-side, the mill to take place on Tuesday, November 19, 1822; but, owing to some reports having got into circulation that it was to be a cross on the part of Shelton, Mr. Jackson refused the use of the P. C. ropes. The friends of Shelton, nevertheless, were so satisfied with his integrity that they immediately made the following match:—

“_Golden Cross, Cross Lane, Long Acre._

“Thomas Shelton agrees to fight Josh. Hudson on Tuesday, the 10th of December, in a twenty-four feet ring, for £100 a-side, half-minute time; to be a fair stand-up fight. Mr. Jackson to name the place, and to hold the stakes of £200. £6 a-side are now deposited in the hands of the P. of the D. C., and the remainder of the stakes, £94 a-side, to be made good at Mr. Holt’s, on Saturday, the 23rd of November, between the hours of eight and ten o’clock in the evening, or the deposit money to be forfeited. An umpire to be chosen on each side, and Mr. Jackson to name the referee.

“_November 22, 1822._”

This remarkable contest came to issue on Harpenden Common, near St. Alban’s. Josh. was defeated in less than fifteen minutes, and fourteen rounds. He was hit out of time, and Shelton was so dead beat that it was with difficulty he appeared at the scratch to answer the call of “time.”

On the 17th of December, 1822, Josh. (full of Christmas before it began) had a turn-up in a room with Tom Gaynor, the carpenter, a strong, wiry chap, then little known, and said to be a bit of a plant. Hudson’s hands were quite gone, and altogether he was not in a fit state to fight, and if he had any friends present when the row took place, they ought to have prevented the battle. The high courage of Josh. brought him through the piece; but he was severely milled, and met with a very troublesome customer for thirty-five minutes, before Gaynor could be choked off. To mend the matter, it was for love. Josh.’s defeat weighed on his mind, and he thus proposed a renewal of hostilities in a letter:—

“SIR,—

“My late defeat by Shelton having occurred through accident, has induced me to wish to meet him once more in the ring, for the satisfaction of myself and friends and the sporting world, for which purpose I have seen Tom personally; but, for reasons best known to himself, he declines fighting any more, at least with me. I am therefore disengaged; and as my friends are ready to back me for £100 against any one (that fact coupled with the idea I entertain of myself), I wish, through the means of your valuable paper, to say, should either Bill Neat or Tom Spring have a leisure hour, once within three months, to display in real combat the scientific art of self-defence, I am ready, at any time and place either of these gents may appoint, to make a deposit to fight for the above sum.

“I am, with respect to Neat and Spring, yours obediently, “JOSHUA HUDSON.

“_Cock and Cross, Redcross Street, London Docks, January 25, 1823._”

The second match was made between Hudson and Shelton for £100 a-side, but on Thursday evening, May 23, 1823, Josh. and his friends attended at Shelton’s house to make his money good for the fight on the ensuing 10th of June. The money of Hudson, fifty sovereigns, lay on the table for ten minutes. Shelton in reply, said he was under recognizances, and should not fight nor would he forfeit. Thus the battle went off, and Hudson received £30.

Hudson was anxious to make a match with Neat, but the friends of the latter never appeared at the scratch. Hudson attended at Randall’s house for the purpose on May 30, 1823.

The John Bull Fighter never let a chance go by him, and the following epistle clearly decides his anxiety at all times to accommodate a customer:—

“_To the Editor of the_ WEEKLY DISPATCH.

“SIR,—

“On perusing the daily papers, I understand that Ward challenged me at the Fives Court on Tuesday last; you will therefore have the kindness, through your sporting journal, to inform him that the John Bull Fighter, whether abroad or at home, is always ready to accommodate any of his friends, to afford a ‘bit of sport.’ If Mr. Ward, or his backers, will call at Mr. Randall’s, the Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane, on Thursday evening next, Hudson will make a match either for £100 or £200 a-side, as may suit his opponent.

“I remain, sir, yours, etc., “JOSH. HUDSON.

“_Birmingham, August 28, 1823._”

On the arrival of Hudson in London, the following articles were agreed to:

“_Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane._

“Josh. Hudson agrees to fight James Ward for £100 a-side. To be a fair stand-up fight, in a twenty-four feet ring. Half-minute time. Mr. Jackson to name the place of fighting. The battle to take place on Tuesday, November 11, 1823. The men to be in the ring, and ready to fight, between the hours of twelve and one o’clock. An umpire to be chosen on each side, and a referee to be appointed on the ground. £10 a-side are now deposited in the hands of a person well known in the prize ring; £40 a-side more to be made good at Mr. Shelton’s, Hole-in-the-Wall, Gate Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, on Tuesday, October 7, 1823, between the hours of eight and ten o’clock in the evening, or the £10 a-side to be forfeited. The remainder of the stakes, £50 a-side, to be made good a fortnight before fighting, on Tuesday, October 28, 1823, at Mr. Randall’s, Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane, between the hours of eight and ten o’clock in the evening, or the money deposited to be forfeited.

“Signed, “For JOSH. HUDSON, G. H. “JAMES WARD.

“Witness, B. BENNETT. “_September 4, 1823._”

Upon the above articles being signed, six to four was offered to be taken by the friends of Ward, and several bets were proposed that Ward’s money would be made good.

The following remarks were made respecting the milling capabilities of the combatants previous to the match:—

“The friends of the Black Diamond in the rough (Jem Ward) flatter themselves he is so much polished by his recent experiments on the nobs of the provincials, as to be able to take a high number among the metropolitan boxers. Ward, in point of frame, is a second Hen. Pearce, so say the ould ones; and his chest is thought to be equal in point of anatomical beauty and immense strength to any boxer on the P. L. Ward is likewise a most scientific fighter, active on his legs, and mills on the retreat in first-rate style. The principal drawback is said to be, that he is more of a tapper than a heavy punishing hitter; and it is also a question at present, which time can only answer (in order to make his resemblance to the Chicken complete), whether the little but important word ‘game’ is to be added to his character. Ward, on account of his youth, is much fancied by a great part of the betting world at the west end of the metropolis, who assert, and back their opinion, he will win it easily. On the contrary, something like grief has escaped the lips of the coveys near the Mint; and the Sage of the East has also been caught on the sly wiping his ogles, that necessity should compel the ‘two Stars of the East’ to be opposed to each other. Josh. and Ward being positively in want of a job, and sooner than remain idle, or stand still, are anxious to take each other by the hand, no opponents from any part of the kingdom offering to enter the lists with them. Their match seems made upon the same principle as that of the late Tom Johnson and Big Ben. ‘Tammy,’ said the latter, ‘you and I never fell out, and that is the reason why I think we ought to fight.’ This is exactly the opinion of the John Bull Boxer, who delights in fighting, but detests quarrelling, laughing heartily at the incidents of a mill, and weeping over any real distress. Great sums of money are already betted upon the battle between Hudson and Ward. The former hero is thought to be too fleshy; but his lion-hearted courage, among his staunch admirers, overbalances all defects; and numbers take Josh. for choice, while others are so fond of him as to bet the odds.”

The fight took place on the 11th of November, 1823, on Moulsey Hurst. Hudson was the favourite at six to four some days before the battle; but by a dodge on the evening when the final stakes were to be made good, he reduced the betting to evens, and finally six to four on Ward. He stuffed himself into a great coat, a dress coat, and seven or eight under waistcoats, which gave him such a puffy appearance that many even of his own friends imagined him out of condition. Hudson was always an attractive feature in the prize ring; and Ward, by anticipation, was expected to turn out a hero of the first milling class. From the time Dutch Sam fought Nosworthy, so many vehicles were not seen upon Moulsey Hurst. A sprinkling of Corinthians ornamented the ring, numerous swells, a great variety of heavy-betting sporting men, thousands of independent respectable spectators, lots of commoners, and plenty of persons a shade below the last mentioned, and, lastly, a multitude of chaps still a shade lower. The whole was conducted in the most respectable and orderly manner, under the direction of the Commander-in-Chief, seconded by the efforts of the Commissary-General. The exertions of Oliver, Scroggins, Harmer, Sampson, Turner, Carter, etc., also tended in a great degree to give every individual an opportunity of viewing the fight. Five and seven shillings each person was demanded for a standing place in the wagons; and the watermen who ferried the crowds across the Thames were well paid for their exertions. The Red Lion at Hampton was head quarters, and every room in the house overflowed with company. Between twelve and one o’clock Josh., in a drab white coat, with a blue bird’s eye round his neck, attended by his seconds, Randall and Peter Crawley, followed by Jem Burn, threw his hat into the ring. Hudson was received with loud shouts. He looked cheerful, nodded to several friends, and appeared quite at his ease. After walking about the ring for the space of ten minutes, “Ward, Ward,” was the cry. “He ought to have been here before,” said Josh.; “half past twelve o’clock was the agreement.” The Black Diamond was seen, arm-in-arm with his backer and trainer, making his way through the crowd, followed by his seconds, Spring and Aby Belasco. He was cheered as he passed along, and threw his hat spiritedly into the ring. Ward looked extremely pale on entering the ropes; and the contrast between the mugs of the combatants was decidedly in favour of Hudson. While the Black Diamond was sitting on the knee of his second, preparing for action, he turned round and surveyed his opponent from head to foot. Randall tied the colours of Josh., “true blue,” to the stakes, and Spring placed Ward’s, green, alongside of them. “Go to work,” was now the order of the day.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Hudson, on throwing off his togs, amused the spectators by a dramatic touch—a new feature in the prize ring—something like the comic business in Hamlet. On getting rid of his linen, which had been nicely got up by his laundress for the occasion, a flannel cameza was discovered, and the eager peepers of the amateurs were disappointed in not beholding Josh.’s canvas, a second layer of Welsh obscuring it. “Hallo!” said the Nonpareil, “how many more of them have you got on?” “Why, you are made of flannel,” rejoined Peter. “Leave it all to the cook,” replied Josh., smiling; “ask Ward about that by-and-bye.” To the great astonishment of the crowd Randall divested a third from his frame before Josh.’s rotundity of abdomen, broad jolly shoulders, and round arms were exposed for action. At length the John Bull Fighter appeared all in his glory: “His soul in arms, and eager for the fray.” “Let no person assert that Josh. has not been careful of himself,” observed a young sprig of aristocracy. “Careful, indeed!” replied an old sporting man; “do not say a word about being careful: he is in no condition at all; he is not fit to fight. For myself, I never make any calculations upon his training; no, no, system and Hudson are not pals; and the old Sage of the East, Tom Owen, has deplored this defect in his darling boy times and often with watery ogles. It is his invincible bottom that never flinches while nature holds her empire over his frame that renders Hudson a safe man to back at all times. Recollect Ben Burn’s character of Tom Cribb, ‘I wouldn’t mind fighting Cribb,’ said Ben, ‘but Tom has not sense enough to leave off; he never knows when he has got enough.’” The John Bull was now only waiting to shake the hand of his opponent to show the spectators that animosity had no place in the contest, fame and glory being his only object in view. Ward was in tip-top condition; in fact, he could not have been better: he was nearly, if not quite, as heavy, without the grossness of his opponent, and thus possessed the advantages of training. The bust of the Black Diamond was pronounced “beautiful” by the admirers of anatomy; indeed, the whole figure of Ward was of so manly an appearance, that a sculptor might have long looked for such a model of a pugilist. The combatants placed themselves in attitude. Hudson stood firmly with his left arm extended, looking steadfastly at his opponent, ready for any chance that might offer, well knowing that he had an active and scientific boxer before him. The forte of Ward immediately showed itself: hitting and getting away seemed to be the object he had in view. After a short pause, and both moving a few paces on the ground, Josh. let fly with his left, but the Black Diamond got away with activity. Ward endeavoured to make a hit, but his distance from Josh. was too respectful to do any mischief. Hudson looked cheerful and Ward smiled. Hudson aimed a heavy blow with his right hand, but the Black Diamond was not to be had, and retreated. Josh., perceiving that long bowls were of no service, determined to try if a broadside would not bring his adversary into action; he went to work _sans cérémonie_, and an exchange of heavy blows was the result. The Black Diamond napped a blow on the side of the neck, which, if it had been planted a little higher, might have been mischievous. In closing at the ropes Ward commenced the weaving system actively, but the situation of Josh. gave him the opportunity of beating the back part of Ward’s neck and head. In struggling for the throw, Ward obtained it cleverly, Hudson being undermost. (Shouting, and “Well done, Jem! that’s the way, my lad; you can win it by throwing only.” “Walker!” said an old sailor from the Cock and Cross; “lick my old messmate by a throw indeed! You don’t know him.”)

2.—Josh.’s forehead was a little rouged, and the right ear of the Black Diamond vermilioned from the effects of the last round. Ward would not make play, and Hudson found his man very difficult to be got at. A short time was occupied in dodging, when Hudson again resolutely commenced the attack. Several blows of no tender nature were exchanged between them till they fought their way into close quarters. Ward, with great spirit and activity, fibbed his opponent _à la_ Randall, but not without return. After severe struggling they separated, and both went down.

3.—Josh. stopped well, and also got away from a heavy hit. Ward smiled. A smart rally took place, in which Hudson received a rum one that caused him to stagger, stagger, and stagger till he went down on his rump. It is true it was from the effects of the hit; but perhaps it would be too much to term it a knock-down blow. In the above rally Ward also received a teazer on the tip of his nose which produced the claret, and he dropped, a little exhausted, on one knee at the conclusion of the round. (“Ward will win it,” from his partizans; “he’ll be able to make a fool of the fat one in ten minutes.” The odds decidedly on the Black Diamond.)

4.—This round was short, but very sweet to the backers of Hudson. The latter, on setting-to, floored Ward like a shot. (The joy was so great on this event that the Bullites roared like bulls, the Black Diamond’s friends looking a little blue at this momentous triumph.)

5.—This was an out-and-out round on both sides. Ward was on his mettle, and nothing else but milling followed. Josh. made play, and Ward turned to with equal gaiety. Some heavy blows passed between them, and Josh. turned round in breaking away from his adversary. A short pause, when Hudson kept creeping after Ward, who was retreating, till another rally was the result, in which the Black Diamond had the best of it, till Josh. again broke away. Hudson was terribly distressed, and Ward committed the error of letting the John Bull Fighter make a pause till he recovered his wind; in fact, Ward would not fight first. The high-couraged ould one, puffing and blowing like a grampus, again commenced play, but received three facers for his temerity. Another pause. Hudson was now at a stand-still, and his bad condition was visible to every one, but he would attempt to mill undismayed, till he received a tremendous blow on his left cheek-bone, which sent him down in a twinkling. This was a clean knock-down blow. (The Black Diamonders were now in turn brilliant. “That’s the way, my Jem’s eye; it’s all your own. We’ll back you now two to one, nay, three to one. You can’t lose it.”)

6.—The heart of Hudson was as sound as ever, and his eye still possessed its wonted fire, but his distressed state was evident. Two severe counter-hits separated the combatants from each other, and both of them felt the severity of the blows. Ward retreated fast from Josh.; but the latter kept creeping and creeping after him till the Black Diamond was near the ropes, and compelled to fight. Here the John Bull Fighter found himself at home, that is to say, at close quarters, a sort of yard-arm and yard-arm fighting, where all his blows told. Josh. not only stopped skilfully, but he put in two such tremendous hits on Ward’s body, that the face of the Black Diamond exhibited excruciating grimaces. Hudson also finished the round by throwing Ward. (Another uproarious shout. The spectators all alive, and the John Bull Fighter, if not the favourite among the betting men, seemed to have the interest of the unbiassed part of the audience.)

7.—Hudson, while sitting on Crawley’s knee, appeared exhausted, but not in pluck, and laughed at Randall’s telling him to recollect his invitation of dining with the Lord Chancellor to-morrow. On time being called, Josh., with much judgment, kept sparring at the scratch to recover his wind. Hudson cleverly stopped a heavy blow. In closing at the ropes the activity displayed by Ward in fibbing his opponent was the admiration of the ring, but it was more showy than effective. Hudson, though awkwardly held, nevertheless administered most punishment. Ward again threw his opponent cleverly.

8.—Some pausing occurred, Ward waiting for his opponent to make play. “You must come to me, Jem,” said Josh.; “I shall not go after you; I shall stand here all day.” “So can I,” replied Ward. Hudson soon broke through his resolution, and went to work, Ward fighting and retreating till he was against the ropes. Here the combatants closed, and the Black Diamond endeavoured to fib his adversary, until Josh., in rather a singular manner, extricated himself from the gripe of his adversary, and found himself outside of the ring, when he put in a blow across the ropes which floored the Black Diamond. (Loud shouting in favour of Hudson; but in betting generally Ward was the hero of the tale.)

9.—The face of Hudson was red and puffy, and it was astonishing to witness a man fight so well who laboured under such an evident state of distress. The skill of Ward, added to his goodness on his legs, should have given him confidence to have fought immediately with Josh. on his appearing at the scratch. Owing to the want of this confidence, he gave a chance away. “The John Bull” again commenced play, but Ward would not be hit. Hudson, on the creeping system, gently followed Ward all over the ring, until the latter was in a situation that he was compelled to fight. A slaughtering rally took place, hit for hit, till both the men went down. (Spring, on picking up his man and looking at Hudson, observed, “I should like to have a calf’s head as fat as Josh.’s face.” “Softly,” said Crawley, “you don’t know how soon your own mug may be in a worse condition.”)

10.—This was a fine fighting round altogether, exhibiting skill, bottom, and bravery. Josh., after a short pause, endeavoured to feel for his adversary’s nob, but Ward retreated. The Black Diamond, however, returned upon Hudson quickly, and missed a tremendous blow aimed at Josh.’s head; it alighted upon his shoulder. A severe but short rally occurred, till the combatants separated from distress. Hudson was determined to put his opponent to the test, and the exchange of blows was severe, till they were compelled to make a pause. “To lick or be licked,” says Josh., “here goes!” and hit for hit occurred till both the men went down.

11.—This round led to the decision of the battle. Ward was pinking Josh.’s nob and retreating, as the John Bull kept creeping after him, till a severe rally was the result. Josh. put in a tremendous blow under Ward’s left eye, which closed it. The Black Diamond was wild and quite abroad from its severity, hitting at random. It was now blow for blow till Ward was floored.

12.—It was evident that Ward could not measure his distance accurately, and his blows were given like a man feeling for his way in the dark; nevertheless, this was a complete milling round. Hudson’s mug was red in the extreme, and he did not appear to have wind enough to puff out a farthing rushlight. Ward was also distressed; indeed, it was the expressed opinion of some of the old fanciers that “it was anybody’s battle.” When time was called, a minute, if it could have been allowed, would have proved very acceptable to both parties. After a short pause at the scratch Ward got away from a heavy body blow. At the ropes a smart exchange of blows occurred, when they separated. Hudson stopped a heavy lunge in great style. At the ropes another sharp encounter took place, till both of the men were at a stand-still. Ward endeavoured to put in a nobber, which Josh. stopped so skilfully as to extort applause from all parts of the crowd. In a struggle at the corner of the ring Ward was sent out of the ropes, and Hudson fell on one of his knees. (The backers of both parties were on the funk. There seemed no decided certainty about it: hope and fear were depicted on the faces of the friends of both men at this juncture. It was an awful moment for the cash account—the transfer of some thousands was at hand.)

13.—Hudson’s little smiling eyes, although nearly obscured by the bumps and thumps above and below them, had not lost their fire, and he said to Randall, on coming to the scratch, “I am satisfied, Jack, I have got him.” The face of the Black Diamond was completely metamorphosed, and his peepers nearly darkened. On setting-to Hudson planted a nobber, which sent Ward staggering two or three yards, and he was nearly going down. Hudson followed his opponent, and some blows were exchanged; when, in closing, Josh. fell on Ward with all his weight. (“John Bull for £100; five to one,” and higher odds. Victory was now in sight. “Hudson can’t lose it,” was the general cry.)

14.—Badly distressed as Josh. appeared to be, on coming to the scratch he was by far the better man of the two. Ward did what he could to obtain a turn, and, in closing at the ropes, endeavoured to fib his adversary; but Hudson pummelled Ward so severely behind his nob, that in a confused manner he let go his hold. A few blows were then exchanged, when the John Bull gave Ward a _coup de grace_ that sent him down flat on his back. (“Ward will not come again; it’s all over!”)

15 and last.—When time was called, Spring brought his man to the scratch, but Ward was in so tottering a state that he was balancing on one leg. (“Take him away!” “Don’t hit him, Josh.”) The John Bull Fighter, with that generosity of mind which distinguishes his character, merely pushed his opponent down, when the battle was at an end. Josh. took hold of Randall’s hat and threw it up in the air, and at the same time he tried to make a jump. If not quite so light, graceful, nor so high as the pirouette of an Oscar Byrne, yet, it was that sort of indication that he did jump for joy. Hudson immediately left the ring amidst the shouts of the populace, crossed the water, and prudently went to bed at the Bell, at Hampton. The battle was over in thirty-six minutes.

REMARKS.—Ward must be pronounced a fine fighter: he completely understands scientific movements, and, perhaps it is not too much to assert, he is master of the art of self-defence. His most conspicuous fault in this battle appeared to be in not fighting first, and evincing too great anxiety to avoid the blows of his opponent. The Black Diamond is excellent upon his legs—few, if any, boxers better; but, in his fondness for retreating, his blows, however numerous, did not reduce the courage of the John Bull Fighter. It has been urged that Ward was shy of his adversary. The name and character of Josh. Hudson, as one of the gamest of the game boxers on the list, no doubt has some terrors attached to it, and we think it had a little effect upon the feelings of Ward. Hudson was now in his twenty-seventh year, and victory had crowned his efforts sixteen times. In the battle with Ward the extraordinary courage he displayed was the theme of every one present. To courage, and courage alone, he may attribute his success; but at the same time we are sure that he might have been in much better condition, if he had paid more attention to his training. Hudson, we must assert, relied too much upon his courage; in fact, he was so completely exhausted two or three times in the fight, that his most sanguine friends were doubtful of the result. Ward proved himself a troublesome customer, and difficult to be got at. Josh. won the battle out of the fire. Ward was considerably punished about the head, and put to bed immediately after the battle, at Hampton. Upon the whole it was a fine manly fight.

On the fight being over, “Home, sweet home,” was the object in view, and the night fast approaching, the proverb of the “devil take the hindmost,” seemed to be uppermost. The toddlers brushed off by thousands to the water’s edge, and, in spite of the entreaties of the ferrymen, the first rush jumped into the boats in such numbers as nearly to endanger their own lives. However, the watermen soon got the “best of it,” by demanding a bob or more to carry over in safety select companies. Yet so great was the pressure of the crowd, and so eager to cross the water to Hampton, that several embraced Old Father Thames against their will, amidst the jeers and shouts of their more fortunate companions. A nice treat, by way of a cooler, in an afternoon in November, sixteen miles distant from home. The other side of the Hurst produced as much fun and laughter, from the barouches, rattlers, gigs, heavy drags, etc., galloping off towards Kingston Bridge through fields covered with water, to save time. Several were seen sticking fast in the mud, the proprietors begging assistance from those persons whose horses were strong enough for the purpose; but “a friend in need” was here out of the question. Two or three drags that were overloaded with “live stock” broke down in similar situations, which a wag observing, sung out, by way of consolation to the Jacks in the water, “that they were going home swimmingly.” One block up of this kind operated on a string of carriages upwards of half a mile in length. Upon the whole, it was a lively and amusing picture. The vehicles were so numerous, that two hours had elapsed before the whole of them had passed over Kingston Bridge, to the great joy and profit of the proprietors of the gates. For miles round Moulsey Hurst it proved a profitable day for the inns; and money that otherwise might have remained idle in the pockets of persons who could afford to spend it, was set to work in the consumption of articles tending to benefit hundreds of tradesmen, who otherwise (like Dennis Brulgruddery) might have been long on the look-out for “a customer.”

Josh. purchased several pieces of blue silk handkerchiefs, and as a convincing proof to his friends that he meant nothing else but winning the battle, he presented one to each of them on the condition that if he, Hudson, won the battle, he was to receive a guinea; but if defeated, not a farthing was to be paid to him. Hudson cleared £100 by the above speculation several of his backers presenting him with £5 a-piece for the blue flag.

Hudson, on meeting with Ward in London the morning after the battle, enquired after his health, shook hands with him, and presented him with a £5 note.

At a meeting of the Partiality Club, held at Mr. Tuff’s, the Blue Anchor, East Smithfield, on Thursday evening, November 13, 1823, it was proposed by Pierce Egan, seconded by Tom Owen, and carried unanimously, that a silver cup, of the value of 100 guineas, be presented to the John Bull Fighter for the true courage displayed by him at all times in the prize ring. The room was small, the company but few in number, yet in less than five minutes, so glorious was the East-end upon this occasion, that the subscriptions amounted to £20. The money was immediately put down, and Mrs. Tuff (wife of the landlord), as an admirer of true courage, begged the favour of being permitted to add her guinea.

At Crawley’s benefit at the Fives Court, Wednesday, November 12, 1823, on Hudson showing himself on the stage, he was warmly congratulated by his friends. “Gentlemen,” said Hudson, “I have been informed by Mr. Egan that Shelton has made an assertion that Ward received £100 to lose the battle with me. I will bet any person five to one that he does not prove it. (Bravo!) I will also fight Tom Shelton for from £25 to £200 a-side when the time he is bound over for expires. If Ward is in the Court let him come forward and meet this charge made against him.” (Applause.) Shelton appeared upon the stage and said, “I have been told by Ben Burn that Ward received £100. I merely repeated it, and give up the author.” “That’s right, Tom; you’ve cleared yourself.” Burn then appeared and said, he had heard in casual conversation what he had repeated to Shelton. Here Ward rushed up the steps and said, as he stood between Shelton and Burn, “The whole is a direct falsehood;” and added indignantly, “I will fight either of them, gentlemen, for £100, and cast back the slander. (Applause.) I now publicly assert that no individual whatever ever offered me one single farthing to lose the battle. I felt confident I could win.” (Great applause.) Josh. Hudson: “And I will fight Ben Burn any day he likes to appoint, my £100 against his £60.” Vehement cheering, during which Uncle Ben tried a reply. He had no more chance than an unpopular candidate on the hustings. All that could be heard was a declaration that he had not had fair play, and they did not act towards him like Englishmen. The suspicions, if any had legitimately existed, as to the fairness of the fight between Hudson and Ward, were utterly dissipated.

Hudson and Sampson were matched on the bustle for £100 a-side, owing, it would appear, to a word and a blow, Sampson—always very fast—entertaining an opinion he had improved, not only as a boxer, but was a better man in every point of view than heretofore, while the John Bull Fighter always thought he could polish off Sampson at any period in a twenty-four foot ring.[46] Articles were entered into; but Josh., in order to gain three weeks in training, forfeited £10 to Sampson, at Mr. King’s, the Cock and Cross, East Smithfield, on March 8, 1824, and a new match was made the same evening, for £100 a-side, to come off on Tuesday, May 11, 1824.

PRESENTATION OF A SILVER CUP TO JOSH. HUDSON.—On Thursday, May 6, 1824, previous to this trophy being deposited in the hands of the John Bull Boxer, the Partiality Club dinner took place at Mr. Tuff’s, Blue Anchor, East Smithfield. The festive board was truly inviting; the wines excellent; and a silver cup which had been given to a gentleman of the name of Docker, for his spirited conduct in behalf of the oppressed poor in the parish—as one of the links connected with “true courage”—was also placed in view of the visitors. On the cloth being removed, the John Bull Fighter’s cup, filled with five bottles of port, was placed in the front of the Chairman, and Hudson took his seat on the right hand side of the President. Pierce Egan occupied the chair, and accordingly fills six pages of “Boxiana” with a newspaper report _apropos_ of—nothing. The health of Hudson having been drunk, he received the cup with great emotion. “Gentlemen,” said Josh., “I cannot make a speech, but, believe me, my gratitude and thanks are sincere, and as you have honoured me with this cup in the name of true courage, why I will endeavour to support my character for true courage to the end of my life.” The cup then passed round. The healths of Mr. Jackson, Tom Cribb, and the leading supporters of the prize ring, were drunk, and Josh. departed to the country to finish his training for his fight with Sampson.

The cup bears the following inscription:—

“THIS CUP Was presented to the JOHN BULL FIGHTER, ON THURSDAY, THE 6TH OF MAY, 1824, As a Reward for the TRUE COURAGE which JOSHUA HUDSON Displayed throughout all his Contests in the PRIZE RING.

John Bull in the ring has so oft play’d his part, The form let it be in the shape of a heart— A true British one! at its shrine take a sup: Can a more noble model be found for a cup?—P. E.

* * * * *

This Piece of Plate was raised by Subscription; The Contributors were Several Members of the PARTIALITY CLUB, a few frequenters of the WIDOW MELSOM; (and in confirmation that ‘_None but the Brave deserve the Fair!_’ The HOSTESSES of the above houses); And by those Amateurs who are supporters of the Noble ART OF SELF-DEFENCE.”

The cup, as indicated in the doggrel to which P. E. is engraved, is heart-shaped. On the cover is the figure of a sailor, with an anchor and foul cable. The report goes on:—“In front of the cup a small heart appears over four divisions, intended for the boxers’ coat of arms. The first division represents the pugilists in attitude. The second portrays one of the combatants down on his knees, his opponent with his arms held up walking away, in order to show that he will not take any unfair advantage. The third division exhibits the battle at an end, the defeated man sitting upon the knee of his second in the act of shaking hands with the victor, to evince that no malice exists between them. The fourth depicts the honours of conquest—the conqueror carried out of the ring upon the shoulders of his seconds, with the purse in his hands. Several other appropriate embellishments appear on the different parts of the cup, on the bottom of which the lion is seen with the lamb reposing at his feet; and at no great distance from the lion is the English bull-dog, as a second to the king of the forest.”

The affair of Hudson and Sampson was fixed for Tuesday, May 11, 1824, at Haydon Grange Farm, forty miles from the metropolis. Hudson was originally the favourite, at five and six to four, and heavy sums were laid out on him at Tattersall’s at these figures. But on the day before the fight there was a rush to get on to Sampson, and the odds went about at six to four on the Birmingham Youth. This sudden change terrified the East-enders, and many tried to get off.

At one o’clock the ring was formed in a most delightful situation, and, punctual to time, Josh. threw his white topper into the ring. Just before, however, the backers of Sampson declared that they preferred forfeiting the £100 stakes to the risk of losing more than £1,000, as numbers of sporting men had declared off, and that they would not pay if Hudson lost the battle. Hereupon Hudson’s backers offered to cancel the old articles, and post £100 for a new match to come off there at two o’clock. This was refused, and the altercation became violent, but Sampson’s backers said he should not fight that day. The wrangle having subsided, two Cambridge men, Samuel Larkins[47] and William Shadbolt, of local fame, and both styled “champions,” threw their hats into the ring. The Cantabs, who were in force, took great interest in the result. Paddington Jones and Jem Ward seconded Larkins, and Tom Oliver and Ned Stockman picked up Shadbolt. Larkins, in nineteen rounds, polished off Shadbolt completely.

Hudson walked round the ring, conversing with his friends during the battle. The John Bull Fighter was never in such excellent condition in any previous battle, and loudly expressed himself dissatisfied at receiving the battle-money without a fight. “The sporting world,” said Josh. “are my best friends; to them I owe everything, and I am sorry they should have come so many miles on my account to be disappointed. It is not my fault, and I hope they will not blame me for circumstances I have nothing to do with.” On leaving the ground, and passing the Grange Farm House, Hudson met with Sampson, when they shook hands together. The ground was soon cleared, and the company was off. Hudson returned to London in a post-chaise and four, and arrived about two o’clock in the morning. Sampson also moved for the metropolis with the utmost speed. The sporting houses were filled with company, and every one out of humour at having travelled nearly a hundred miles to be laughed at for his pains.

By the advice of his best friends, and in consequence of his constitutional tendency to corpulency, which resisted the effects of ordinary training, Josh. now took leave of the P. R. in an address at the Tennis Court. His next step was to “commit the crime the clargy call matrimony,” with the complicity of a very amiable and respectable young woman, who quickly developed into the agreeable hostess of the Half Moon Tap, in Leadenhall Market, where “Jolly Josh.,” brimful of fun and facetiousness, held his opening dinner on the 23rd of January, 1825. Josh., though he retired from activity as a principal, kept up his ring connection, and was foremost not only in backing and match-making on behalf of the East-enders as in rivalry with the Corinthians of the West, but never spared himself in the anxious and often laborious duties of seconding any man worthy of his care and patronage, or of setting-to for his benefit, as may be seen in these pages on many occasions. A paragraph which we find in a newspaper of this period may show that Josh.’s “right hand” had not “lost its cunning” by reason of bar-practice, and also throws a side-light on our hero’s manly readiness to champion the defenceless.

“GALLANTRY.—As Hudson, the well-known pugilist, was passing along Ratcliff Highway, a clumsy coalheaver elbowed a pregnant woman off the pavement into the road. The feelings of Josh. were roused at this unmanly conduct, and he remonstrated pretty forcibly with Coaly for his bad behaviour. The reply he got was a cut from a trouncing whip. This was too much. Without further ceremony Josh. judged his distance and gave Coaly such a pile-driver that he went down on the stones as if he had been shot. It was a minute or two before he recovered, and then, declining to get up for ‘another round,’ Josh.’s name being upon every one’s tongue, the humbled bully sneaked into a public-house to talk the matter over with his brethren of the sack.”—_Sunday Monitor_, July, 1825.

Among Josh.’s generous qualities were his grateful remembrance of past services and favours and his firm adherence to a friend in adversity. Of this there is extant an instance so creditable to both parties concerned, that we cannot forbear its repetition.

An old friend of Josh.’s early days having, by reverse of fortune, by no means unfrequent among sporting men, fallen into a difficulty which called upon him for the immediate payment of some £50, applied, in his extremity, to mine host of “the Half Moon.” Josh., who had not the cash by him, was sadly annoyed at the idea of being compelled to refuse such an application from one from whom he had received favours. A sudden thought struck him. There was his “Cup,” lying snug in its case in his iron safe. On that he could raise a temporary loan, and nobody the wiser. Desiring his friend to make himself at home while he went for “the mopusses,” Josh. possessed himself of the piece of plate, hurried out at the side-door, and after a sharp toddle presented himself, blowing like a grampus, in one of the small boxes of a neighbouring “Uncle” in Bishopsgate Street. Josh. was not only a well-known public character, but it so happened that “mine Uncle” was an admirer of the “noble art.” Josh. unlocked his box, and drew forth his well-earned trophy. The assistant eyed him with some curiosity.

“How much?”

“Forty pounds!” gasped Jolly Josh. not yet recovered from his run.

The assistant stepped into his employer’s sanctum, who instantly returned with the shining pledge in his hands.

A brief colloquy explained the position of affairs. Josh. wanted forty pounds.

“Mine Uncle” proceeded to his desk, but not to make out the “ticket” required by law. He merely wrote an acknowledgment, to be signed by Josh., that he had received a loan of forty pounds. This “mine Uncle” presented to him for signature. Josh. was overwhelmed.

“No, no,” said mine Uncle! “Take back your Cup, Josh., you must not be without it. Pay me, as I know you will, as soon as you are able. I’ll not have _that_ piece of _wedge_ go to sale anyhow.”

Josh returned to the Half Moon with both money and cup; discharged the duty of friendship, and the pawnbroker lost nothing by his confidence.

We must preserve the name of the generous pawnbroker (strange coupling of epithets!), it was Folkard, and the assistant was the youth who, in after years, was the well-known Renton Nicholson, of newspaper and “Town” celebrity, from whose lips we have often heard this little episode of “John Bull and his Uncle.”

“Mine host in the market, a prime jolly fellow, As rough and as ready as here and there one; In his lush-crib when seated, good-humoured and mellow, Looks very like Bacchus astride of his tun. But more to advantage, with Davy beside him, This John Bull, the picture of frolic appears, Discoursing on battles, which those who have tried him Confess to have rung a full peal in their ears.”

In 1827, Mrs. Hudson presented, as a second offering, a son and heir, which occasion the friends and admirers of the father celebrated by a festival on Christmas Day, whereat a silver cup was presented to the young “John Bull,” inscribed: “The gift of a few friends to Josh. Hudson, junior, born February 28th, 1827, within the sound of Bow Bells.”

The free life of a publican, with one who certainly had no inclination to check free living, was not long in telling its tale. Josh. was now visited with increasing frequency by gout and its too common sequel, dropsy, and died at the age of thirty-eight, on the 8th of October, 1835, at the Flying Horse, in Milton Street, Finsbury.