CHAPTER I.

TOM SPRING (CHAMPION)—1814–1824.

A new era in boxing arose about the period of Spring’s appearance and Tom Cribb’s later battles, of which Thomas Winter (Spring) was the exponent, and of which school Jem Ward (in the next Period), Peter Crawley, Ned Neale, Jem Burn, Baldwin, Young Dutch Sam, and others, with numerous light weights, carried out the exemplification and practice. This we shall have ample occasion to notice in the coming chapters; for the present we will address ourselves to the milling career of Thomas Spring.

Thomas Winter, who adopted the name of Spring on his appearance in the ring as a professor, was born at Fownhope, Herefordshire, February 22nd, 1795. His fighting-weight thirteen stone two pounds; later, thirteen stone four pounds; height, five feet eleven and a-half inches.

The relations and connexions of Thomas Winter, at Hereford and in the neighbourhood, were respectable; and when he tried his “’prentice han’,” at the age of seventeen, in battle with Hollands, a big countryman of some provincial repute, he won by science and steadiness. He thus gained a name is the immediate neighbourhood of Mordeford, where he was in service with a butcher, who was in after life a firm friend and an admirer of Tom’s prowess.

Two years afterwards (in 1814), one Henley, a local celebrity, challenged Tom for three sovereigns a-side. This also came off at Mordeford, when in eleven rounds Henley was satisfied that he had found his master in the youth whom he had challenged to the fray.

Spring two years afterwards made his way to the metropolis. Here he met one Stringer, a Yorkshireman, from Rawcliffe, renowned for its “paddocks.” Stringer was under the wing of Richmond, and was proposed as a “trial horse” for the young aspirant Spring. The battle took place at Moulsey, September, 9, 1817. We take the contemporary report as giving the first impressions produced on those who did not foresee the brilliant career of the youthful débutant.

The appearance of Stringer was athletic and big, but by no means fresh, and his cut of countenance was rough and weatherbeaten. He was an ugly looking customer in more than one sense. Spring looked boyish, not more than 21 years of age, and in some points he was thought to resemble the late Jem Belcher, but on a larger scale. The men, it appears, were about equal in weight—Stringer thirteen stone seven pounds, Spring thirteen stone two pounds. Both men were about six feet in height, and formidable fellows. The stakes were forty guineas and a purse given by the P. C. (Pugilistic Club). Stringer was waited upon by Richmond and Shelton; Spring was seconded by Tom Owen and Parish, the Waterman. Two to one was asked upon Spring; but seven to four was the current betting against Stringer.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Stringer, on setting-to, placed himself in a better attitude than was expected. He also made two feints. Some blows were exchanged; in closing, both down.

2.—In this round the superiority of science was evident on the part of Spring. In closing he fibbed his opponent severely, and in struggling for the throw, both went down, Stringer uppermost.

3.—This round was courageously fought. It was curious to observe the left hand of Stringer pushing, as it were, against his opponent, with his right close upon it. Yorky did not appear wholly without judgment, though many of his blows were made at random. Both were down. The odds had now risen rapidly upon Spring.

4.—Stringer rushed in with all the impetuosity of a bull, seized hold of his adversary improperly, and sent him down. Loud cries of “foul,” “fair,” etc. occurred. But the fight was suffered to proceed, it being attributed more to want of knowledge than to absolute design.

5.—Strength, activity, and science were now pre-eminent on the part of Spring, and, at this early stage of the fight, it was almost certain how it must end. Spring kept hitting his opponent completely away, but still he returned desperately, till he was at length hit down.

6.—This was also a desperate round. The men stood up to each other, and hammered away like a couple of blacksmiths, but Spring had the best of it. The latter nobly disdained taking an advantage when Stringer was on the ropes, and let him go down without extra punishment. Great applause from all parts of the ring.

7.—The determination of Stringer was truly astonishing; he bored in regardless of the consequences. In passing Spring he got a tremendous nobber, and was ultimately sent down.

8.—Nothing but milling, till they closed, and both down.

9.—On setting-to Yorky received a facer, which nearly turned him round, but he recovered himself, and planted a good hit. In closing, Stringer got his arms round his opponent’s body, but he could not prevent Spring from administering some heavy punishment. The Yorkshireman, however, obtained the throw, and fell with all his weight upon Spring.

10.—Stringer fought with so much desperation that he almost laid himself down, he appeared so exhausted.

11.—The Yorkshireman could not protect his head from the repeated shots of his opponent. In closing, both down, but Spring uppermost.

12.—Both men exhibited severe marks of the other’s handy-work. The claret was flowing copiously. Both down. A quarter of an hour had elapsed.

13.—A short but sharp round, till both on the ground.

14.—Stringer was rather conspicuous in this round. He bored Spring to the ropes, where much struggling took place before they went down.

15.—Stringer was hit down at the ropes. Great applause.

16.—This was as terrible a round as any in the fight. One minute passed in hard milling, without intermission, till Spring got the best of it, when Stringer went down and fell upon his hands.

17.—The conduct of Spring was again truly brave. He had Stringer in a situation that he might have punished him till he was tired, but he let him down amidst the loudest shouts of approbation. Bravo, Spring!

18.—Stringer kept fighting till he fell.

19.—The game displayed by the Yorkshireman was equal to anything ever seen; notwithstanding the severe milling he received, he came laughing up to the scratch. But his head was never out of chancery in this round. Both down.

20.—The men upon setting-to went as eagerly to work as if the fight had just commenced. Hit for hit were reciprocally given, till, in closing, both had enough of it, and went down.

21.—Equally desperate with any of the preceding rounds. Richmond now loudly observed to Stringer “to fight his own way.” The Yorkshireman went down covered with claret.

22.—Spring took the lead in this round in an eminent degree. He fibbed Stringer terribly, till he slipped through his hands.

23.—The courage of the Yorkshireman was truly fine, and had he possessed science equal to his opponent the termination of the battle would have been doubtful. The men fought like lions, till they both fell out of the ropes. Loud shouting.

24.—Spring again behaved handsomely to Stringer. Many of the spectators called out to “take the Yorkshireman away.” (Three to one on Spring.)

25.—A more determined round was never fought. In a rally, both men were hit to a stand still; they at length got away from each other, when Stringer rushed in and got his arms round his opponent’s body, but, ultimately, he was so severely fibbed that he went down exhausted.

26.—On setting-to, Stringer merely exchanged a blow and went down.

27.—Stringer in endeavouring to bore in upon his adversary ran himself down.

28.—Stringer now made a last and desperate effort. His seconds kept as it were urging him forward, telling him “to hold up his head.” He continued to fight till he was sent down.

29th and last.—This round was, in point of execution, the severest ever seen. Stringer received so tremendous a hit in his body, from the right hand of his opponent, that he was only prevented in the act of falling on his face by a quick repetition of it, which caught Yorky’s nob, and instantly floored him on his back! He was carried out of the ring by his seconds in a state of stupor. The battle lasted thirty-nine minutes.

REMARKS.—A more determined man was never witnessed than Stringer proved himself. He put in some desperate blows, and his confidence never forsook him; indeed he laughed several times. On being asked how he felt himself within the last two rounds, he observed, “he was as hearty as a buck!” As a “Receiver-General” he stands almost without an equal. It was a truly desperate fight, and might stand comparison with the battle between Symonds and George Maddox. Stringer was most ably seconded by Richmond and Shelton. His nob was completely metamorphosed. Stringer looks like a man of forty, and, it would seem, he has commenced pugilist too late in the day to attain any celebrity. He is able to beat any rough commoner. From the exhibition of Spring in this battle, he bids fair to put all the “big ones” upon the alert. It is true, he wants improvement in his mode of fighting; nevertheless, he displayed those sound requisites, which, when united with experience, must ultimately constitute him a first-rate boxer. His strength is unquestionable; his game by no means doubtful; and he possesses a tolerably good knowledge of the science. Spring was not once distressed throughout the above battle. He never bobbed his head aside to avoid the coming blow, but stood firm as a rock, and stopped or parried. His generous behaviour also to Stringer, in four or five instances, when he might have administered additional punishment, was so manly and humane that it cannot be passed over, nor ought it to be forgotten. Spring has a prepossessing appearance, is well made, and weighs more than fourteen stone.[1] Both of the above boxers have stood at the Royal Academy, as “studies” for the artists. The frame of Stringer is considered to possess great anatomical beauty.

Spring, anxious to obtain a high situation on the milling list, and to lose his time no longer with rough commoners, without hesitation challenged Ned Painter for 100 guineas a-side, which was as unhesitatingly accepted. It was thought a bold attempt on the part of Spring, and to show more of ambition than sound judgment. This match occasioned much conversation in the milling circles; but Painter was decidedly the favourite. Some difficulty occurred in making the stakes good on the part of Spring, many of his promised backers being found absent at the appointed time. A gentleman, however, stepped forward and made up the deficiency, to prevent disappointment.

The sun had scarcely shed his beams over the metropolis, on Wednesday morning, the 1st of April, 1818, when the roads leading to Mickleham Downs, near Leatherhead, in Surrey, were thronged with vehicles of every description, full of amateurs hastening to the appointed spot to enjoy scientific pugilism, it being the first “big fight” in the season. The Bonifaces along the road were rather taken by surprise, it being April Fool-day, but as soon as they got hold of the right scent, the “dashing system” was put into requisition, and the “cooling article” was most liberally added, in order to prevent the amateurs from getting the fever, or over-heating their frames from too copious draughts of ardent spirits. The “knowing ones” were perfectly satisfied that Painter must win, and seven to four were the odds sported; but the admirers of youth, supported by science, strength, and pluck, added to the chance of long odds, proved eager takers.

The situation of the ring was truly picturesque and delightful, commanding an uninterrupted view of diversified scenery for sixty miles. Some fir trees contiguous to it had an animated appearance from the numerous spectators mounted upon their boughs. At a little after one, Painter and Spring appeared in the outer ring, and, upon meeting, shook hands in a cordial and true Englishman-like manner. Spring threw his hat first in the ring; Painter immediately followed the same line of conduct. At half-past one the men set-to; Painter was seconded by Tom Belcher and Harry Harmer; Spring by Cribb and Byrne. Seven to four current, and two to one against Spring. Gully kept the time.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The attitude of Spring was firm—his body far back, and his length of arm rendered him difficult to be got at. They sparred for three minutes without a hit being exchanged; Spring appeared tired and put down his hands. He then, in planting a blow, hit short; more long sparring occurred, when some hits were exchanged, and Painter received a blow on the side of his throat that sent him staggering, and, in falling, the back of his head and part of his shoulder came in violent contact with one of the stakes. The shock was heard by all the spectators. This round occupied six minutes—Spring received great applause.

2.—The time-keeper, it appears, from this circumstance, thought his occupation was at an end; and Mr. Jackson also deemed it next to an impossibility for the fight to proceed. Painter seemed completely stupefied from the effects of this accident, and Belcher lifted him up with the heaviness of a log of wood; nevertheless he came to his time. In fact it appeared more from instinct than meeting his man under the influence of intellect. A swelling, the bigness of an egg, had now risen on his head, and the skin on his shoulder was cut. Spring again hit short, when Painter planted a sharp facer with his left hand. More long sparring occurred—some blows were exchanged—when Painter received a hit and slipped down. Shouting and applause. The long odds at this early stage of the fight were on the totter.

3.—The idea of a smashing fight was now at an end, and the Randall and Belasco system seemed to be the order of the day. It was more a display of science than of milling. Spring planted a blow and got away. Painter made a hit, but Spring followed him over the ring. Two sharp counter hits occurred in the body. Spring laughed, and gave Painter a nobber, and got away dexterously. Painter made play and put in a severe facer; some blows were exchanged—and in closing, the latter endeavoured to “weave” his antagonist, but, in struggling, the strength of Spring prevailed. He not only held Painter’s hands, but extricated himself in gallant style, and planted a hit on him as he was going down. Great applause, and the long odds completely floored; in many parts of the ring it was now even betting. Twenty-one minutes had elapsed. Painter, while sitting upon his second’s knee, confusedly inquired, “what is it?” just coming to his recollection; having fought the last two rounds in total ignorance. Harmer then informed him of the accident he had experienced, when Painter complained of his shoulder.

4.—Long sparring again occurred. Some hits were exchanged. In closing, Spring held his opponent’s hand (called Tom Owen’s stop, and first introduced by that boxer). Both down, but Spring uppermost.

5.—The forte of Painter seemed to have materially changed. There was more of science exhibited than work performed. The claret scorned to make its appearance. In closing, Spring threw Painter.

6.—For “Big Ones,” there was nothing like going to work, and a long fight was contemplated by all the spectators. Two severe counter-hits occurred. Painter hit short, when Spring returned a sharp blow on his mouth. In closing Spring got Painter down. Applause. (The first six rounds occupied half an hour.)

7.—Painter commenced this round by planting a blow on the head, and one on the body of his opponent. But in closing Spring fell heavily upon him.

8.—This was also a good round. Painter put in three facers, and got away. In closing, both hung on the ropes, and went down.

9.—This round was the best display by Painter throughout the fight. He planted several facers with success, and one was so severe, that, had it not been for the ropes, Spring must have gone down. In closing, both down.

10.—Spring hit short several times, and Painter planted a good nobber, but, in return, he received some sharp hits, so that he turned round and went down. Great applause for Spring.

11.—The manliness of conduct exhibited in this round by Spring received thunders of applause. Painter endeavoured to punish Spring in the act of closing; but the latter, instead of holding him up, as he might have done, let his man down, and put up both his hands. “Bravo, Spring!” and he now became, in a great measure, the favourite. The knowing ones began to look queer.

12.—The same manly conduct again exhibited on the part of Spring.

13.—Painter hit down.

14.—Blow for blow, but Painter down.

15.—Spring slipped, but hit Painter again to grass.

16.—Spring hit down by a complete body blow. “Well done, Painter,” from his friends.

17.—Painter got a blow on the mouth, when he went down, but appeared to slip.

18.—The left hand of Spring was used with success; and his science and length gave him great advantages. Painter down.

19 to 24.—Painter was evidently much distressed, and went down in all these rounds. He frequently hit himself down.

25.—Spring, although he occasionally hit short, planted some heavy chopping blows on the arms and shoulders of Painter, which, added to the accident, tended, in a great measure, to disable his efforts. The latter, on going in, was hit down, Caleb Baldwin now loudly offered five guineas to one on Spring.

26.—Painter was so weak that he hit himself down.

27.—Spring’s left hand caught Painter as he was coming in, and the latter fell on his face.

28 to 31, and last.—Description is not necessary for these rounds. Painter was completely exhausted, and he resigned the contest in one hour and twenty-nine minutes; nothing but the highest state of condition could have enabled him to last such a length of time.

REMARKS.—Spring turned out a much better man than he was previously rated; though it was still urged that he was not a hard hitter. Painter did not complain of the punishment he received, but of the excruciating pain of his head, and the impracticability he experienced of using his shoulder to any advantage. The gameness of Painter was too well known to need comment. Spring used his left hand well, and got away with ease and dexterity; he also displayed coolness and command of temper. Spring’s body was rather marked; his peepers somewhat damaged; he was also distressed a little at one period of the fight, but soon recovered, and kept the lead. On being declared the victor, Cribb took him up in his arms and carried him round the ring, amidst loud huzzas.

So anxious were the friends of Painter for a second trial of skill with Spring, that they put down a deposit the same week, and on the 14th of April increased it to £40, to fight on August 7th, 1818, for 100 guineas a-side, it being specially named in the articles that the ring should have only _eight_ stakes.

Spring was now doomed to receive a slight check to his ambition in his second contest with Painter, on the 7th of August, 1818, at Russia Farm, when our hero lost the battle. This unexpected defeat weighed severely on Spring’s mind. (See the life of NED PAINTER, _post_.)

In consequence of the friends of Shelton forfeiting to Spring, a match was proposed between Oliver and Spring; but the bad state of Oliver’s hand prevented it. The backers of Spring, it appears, were determined to give him an opportunity of reinstating himself, and he was matched against Carter, who had, for two years, challenged all England as champion. The stakes were £50 a-side, and a £50 purse to be given by the Pugilistic Club. The odds were high in favour of Carter, and the backers of Spring asked two to one. The above battle was decided on the 4th of May, 1819, at Crawley Down, immediately after Randall and Martin had left the ring. Carter was seconded by Oliver and Donnelly; and Spring was attended by Cribb and Shelton. Generally speaking, it was thought a hollow thing; and Carter was estimated so extravagantly that three to one was betted upon the combatants setting-to.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Carter entered the ring with great self-importance, smiling contemptuously upon his opponent, and indicating by his gestures that he had a mere nothing to contend with. Both the combatants appeared in good condition, particularly Spring. Upon shaking hands, Carter did not, as heretofore, let fly with his left hand, and both men sparred for an opening. Spring, at length, planted a hit on Carter’s right shoulder. All eyes were fixed upon the _soi-disant_ Champion, to see him go to work, almost expecting him to annihilate his opponent. A long pause occurred, and the men appeared more like statues than living pugilists in actual combat. Spring broke from his position, and planted another hit upon Carter’s shoulder. The latter endeavoured to make a blow with his left, which was well stopped by Spring, who also fought his way into a close; Carter got him on the ropes, where a terrible struggle occurred for the throw, and, amidst much hissing and hooting, Carter got Spring down.

2.—Long sparring, when Spring put in a facer. The intent of Carter seemed upon hugging more than hitting, and at the ropes, he endeavoured to throw Spring. The latter, however, proved the stronger, and Carter was undermost. Loud shouting, and “Well done, Spring!”

3.—Spring made a hit, when Carter got away. The former followed to the ropes, and felt for his nob, till the hugging system commenced, and both went down. (Hissing.)

4.—The amateurs were astonished at the bad fighting of Carter, who seemed to have no relish for anything but hugging his opponent on the ropes till both were down.

5.—Spring put in several hits; in struggling Carter was undermost.

6.—Both down; but Spring decidedly the better man; he gave the Lancashire hero some sharp hits.

7.—Spring took the lead in good style, when Carter in a manner turned away from the blows, and fell down. Spring pointed at him with contempt; the “Champion” was loudly hissed.

8.—Disgust and murmuring were expressed all round the ring at the conduct of Carter. Manliness and courage were displayed by Spring, and he hit Carter out of the ring, but fell on one knee.

9 to 11.—The finish of all these rounds consisted in struggling at the ropes, and the backs of the men were scored.

12.—Spring put in a good nobber without any return, and also threw Carter.

13 to 15.—These rounds were principally hugging; Spring made several hits, yet went down weak.

16.—This was rather a sharp round, and Carter made some return. Spring hit his opponent to the ropes, and also broke away from a close. He renewed the attack sharply, till both went down.

17.—Carter made a good hit with the left, and threw Spring.

18.—It was evident to all the spectators that Spring had rapidly improved; he stopped the left hand of Carter with the greatest ease. This being the peculiar forte of the Carlisle Champion he could do nothing with his right hand, and was foiled. Spring fought manfully, planted three good hits, and sent Carter down.

19 and 20.—Spring took the lead; but in struggling, both down.

21.—Spring put in a heavy hit on Carter’s nose, with his left hand, and also threw him. “Well done, Spring!” and ten to eight offered upon the latter.

22.—Spring hit Carter on the side of the nob, punished him at the ropes, and broke away from a close. Spring hit Carter down, who instantly got up, but Spring fell from caution or weakness.

23.—Spring slipped in making a blow.

24.—The conduct of Carter in this round created great disapprobation. It seemed as if he was fighting a bear instead of a man. He ran sharply in with his head lowered into Spring’s body, when the latter paid him well over the nob for it. But in closing the hissing was very loud, and a distinguished amateur called out to several persons, that Carter was “going.”

25.—Spring planted some hits and got away. In struggling at the ropes, when Carter was receiving punishment, he exclaimed, “What are you at?”

26.—It was plain that Carter meant to tire his opponent, or win the contest by hugging. A terrible struggle occurred, when the ropes were broken, and both went down.[2]

27 and 28—Both down. Spring hit Carter down at the ropes.

29.—This was a good round on the part of Spring. He planted two facers sharply. The claret was now seen issuing from Carter’s mouth, and his mug damaged.

30.—Spring hit Carter on the nob, but in struggling both went over the ropes. (Thirteen to five on Spring.)

31.—The right eye of Carter was rather damaged. Spring hit and broke away. He, however, punished Carter down, and fell.

32.—Carter sat cross-legged upon his second’s knee. Spring hit, and followed him over the ring. In struggling at the ropes, Carter exclaimed, “Let go.” Both down.

33 to 35.—Spring worked hard in all these rounds; took the lead from his hitting; but went down from his exertions.

36.—This was a severe round, and Carter was hit out of the ropes. Loud shouting; and “Bravo, Spring! Where’s the Champion now?”

37.—Spring made a good hit, but went down from weakness.

38.—Carter hit down at the ropes.

39.—Spring shewed good science; he hit and broke away, and planted a blow on Carter’s nose. Both down.

40.—After some exchanges, Spring was hit sharply, and fell upon his head. He was extremely weak, and his friends felt alarmed that he was falling-off; the odds got down upon him.

41.—Spring, in a struggle, fell upon Carter, which appeared to shake him to pieces.

42.—Spring made a hit upon Carter’s nose, but was too weak to follow up this advantage. In closing, on the ropes, both down.

43.—Both down.

44.—The right eye of Carter was nearly closed; but Spring was still weak, and went down from a slight hit.

45 to 49.—Both down in all these rounds. Hugging was the leading feature; but whenever Spring could extricate himself he did, and administered punishment to his opponent.

50.—Spring hit Carter out of the ropes but, to the astonishment of the spectators, he got up with the utmost sang froid.

51.—Carter tried to make a hit with his right hand, but it was stopped. After a few exchanges, Spring went down very weak. One hour and twenty-five minutes had passed, and severity of punishment was not visible, to any extent, on either side.

52.—Spring now went in, hitting and following Carter closely, till he punished him down. (“Bravo, Spring! the Champion’s not in Carlisle now.”)

53.—Hugging again till both down. (Murmuring in all parts of the ring; and three and four to one betters lamenting their want of discrimination in backing a man who seemed to have no fight left in him.)

54.—Carter nearly received his quietus in this round. Spring hit him on the head so strongly that he went down like a shot. [Thunders of applause; and a guinea to a shilling offered.]

55.—Carter came in a tottering state to the scratch, but was hit down. Ten to one.

56.—This was the most interesting part of the combat; Carter, to the astonishment of the ring, commenced fighting with his left hand, and made two hits, but was sent down. (“Go it, Spring, you have not a minute to lose. Give such a Champion a finisher!”)

57.—Carter again floored.

58.—Carter struggling at the ropes, where he positively hung by both his hands, Spring punishing him on the ribs till he went down. Carter never returned a blow in this round.

59.—Spring went in, and planted a nobber that sent Carter down like a log. His seconds pulled him up, and held his head. A hundred to five. The burst of applause beggars description.

60.—It astonished the ring to see Carter come again, and, from his recovery, fears were still entertained for Spring.—Carter seemed anxious to win, and commenced hitting. He also made a desperate struggle at the ropes till he went down.

61.—Prejudice was aroused against Carter from all parts of the ring, owing to the overbearing consequence which he had assumed since his “hugging” victory at Carlisle.—Carter commenced fighting, but went down from a slight hit; in fact, he almost laid himself down.

62.—In this round Spring was quite the hero. He nobbed and bodied Carter so severely, that the latter could not lift his arms. (Any odds.)

63.—Carter was sent down, with striking marks of punishment about his head and body.

64.—Carter appeared to get round, made a hit, but was sent down.

65.—Carter put in two left-handed hits, but Spring went in manfully, and got him down.

66.—In closing, both down.

67.—Carter now tried his left hand; but in closing he received a heavy fall. Spring fell on him. “It is all up;” was the cry.

68.—Carter hit first with his left hand. Both down.

69.—Spring was now very weak, but he went in and punished Carter in all directions, till both went down.

70.—The fight was now drawing fast to an end. Carter was so confused and weak that he was hit to the ropes, where he stood still to receive, till he made a trifling struggle, when both went down.

71.—This was a strange and severe round; Carter endeavoured to make some hits; but, in closing, he received such a fall, with Spring upon him, that when time was called, he could not come again. One hour and fifty-five minutes had elapsed.

REMARKS.—If Spring had been a _punishing_ hitter, he _must_ have won it in half the time. He, however, displayed not only consummate tactics in the offensive, but his defensive movements elicited general applause. Although never rash, he never shrunk from his work, and this triumphant defeat of the braggadocio north-countryman placed him on a pinnacle of fame.

Spring, in company with Cribb, now set out on a sparring tour in the west, in which a friendship was cemented which lasted for life, to the credit of both parties. Bill Neat (who had beaten the game Tom Oliver in the previous year, July 10, 1818) was picked out by the Bristolians for a match with “Young Spring” for 100 guineas a-side, and half-way between Bristol and London was named as the ground, articles signed, and £50 made good on September 6th, for a fight on the 6th of October following. But a certificate from Bristol, dated September 19th, 1819, states that “Neat, from a fall, having broken his right arm, twelve months must elapse before he will be well.” Spring complained, and justly, of not receiving forfeit in this case, as he had been put to considerable expenses, and Neat’s accident (generally supposed not to be a fracture at all) was occasioned by his imprudently running, for a wager, down a steep hill, known as King’s Weston.

The friends of Oliver now made a deposit of five sovereigns, but in the same month of October Spring received that as a forfeit.

On the 20th December, 1819, Spring being at Belcher’s, and Ben Burn in a depreciatory humour, “my uncle” offered to post £20 and meet Spring at Wimbledon Common next morning at one o’clock. Both men were there to time. Eales and an amateur seconded Spring; Richmond and Scroggins Uncle Ben. The affair was a burlesque, though Ben fought in a most manly style. Spring was certainly out of condition, and remarkably cautious. He hit heavily, but seldom, and never gave away a chance. Poor Ben, with the exception of one slight success in a scramble, when he caught Spring over the right eye (the same optic that suffered in his fight with Painter), never got on to his man. On the contrary, Spring hit him when and where he pleased for eighteen minutes, when, at the end of the eleventh round, the second big Yorkshireman whom Tom had manipulated, was thoroughly finished off. Not more than 200 persons were present; but the Commissary and the stakes, with many of the P. C., were there, and formed the ring.

A third match with Painter ended in a forfeit on the part of Painter’s friends, who preferred a match with Oliver for the same amount as a safer investment.

In consequence of this forfeit “Uncle Ben,” who didn’t at all stomach his thrashing by a man who, according to some of the connoisseurs of the old ding-dong school, “couldn’t hit a dent in a pound of butter,” now determined, for the greater glory of the house of Burn, to match Bob Burn against his conqueror for £100 a-side. This ended for a time curiously. Spring was out of health, and, not to give a chance away, his backers forfeited the £100 rather than risk a contest. A second match was soon made, and on the 16th of May, 1820, the men met on Epsom Downs.

The morning was stormy, yet the string of vehicles emulated a Derby Day. The ring was delightfully situated, having the hill on the northern side of it, from which hundreds viewed the battle without the inconvenience of a crowd.

Burn had risen in the esteem of the amateurs from a slashing set-to with Larkin, and some Fives Court displays. Spring also was notoriously unwell, and a strong prejudice existed against his “finishing” or “punishing” abilities. These circumstances induced most of the sporting men to hedge their bets, and take the odds upon Burn. Indeed, in a few instances, the odds were now laid upon the latter; five to four on the ground was thinly sported on Spring, the takers snapping at it instantly.

Burn appeared first, and threw his hat into the ring, attended by his seconds, Larkin and Randall, and kept walking up and down for some minutes before his adversary entered the ropes. Spring at length showed, followed by Cribb and Shelton; when the latter observed to Spring, “Mind, Tom, that you throw your hat into the ring so that it does not blow out,” the incident having an evil augury, as several pugilists had been defeated when their hats had taken flight. Spring took the hint, and his castor remained firm in the ring. Randall (for Burn) then tied his colours (green) to the stakes, and the blue kerchief of Spring was immediately added to them. Upon the Commander-in-Chief ordering the sports to commence, the two umpires and the referee (an honourable baronet) wished to impress upon the minds of the seconds and bottle-holders, “That the watch would be held by them only on the following consideration:—That upon the men setting-to, the seconds were to retire to the corners of the ring, and if any one of them spoke to the combatants, that moment the watch would be thrown down. Much irritation had been occasioned by such conduct on both sides at previous fights. It was highly improper, unfair and unmanly; and also in direct opposition to the rules of Broughton, who was looked up to as the father of the Prize Ring.” These remarks were emphatically repeated, and throughout the fight were strictly attended to.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, we were told that Burn was a stone less in weight than when he fought Shelton; his condition was nevertheless as fine as art and nature could exhibit. In fact, his proper pitch had been ascertained, and Burn flattered himself that he was man enough for anything on the fighting list. Spring did not appear on the ground till the last minute; and it was thought by many that he would forfeit a second time, owing to his not being well. On stripping, though he appeared better than was expected from the rumours which had gone forth, it was evident that he was not in fighting trim. After some little sparring Burn endeavoured to put in two hits, right and left, somewhat confidently, which Spring scientifically stopped. A pause. Spring very neatly put in a facer, and got away. Burn gave two blows without effect. More sparring. Spring again gave a nobber, and got away. Some little fighting now occurred, and several good hits were exchanged, from one of which, a right-handed blow, Burn went off his balance, and fell on his hands. (A roar of approbation. “Burn can’t win it!” Seven to four; several were bold enough to offer two to one.)

2.—This round was short, but decisive, and the takers of the odds looked blue. Burn thrust out his left hand, pawing, as it were, when he was returned upon by Spring right and left. The latter, however, got a small taste over his left ogle, and a bump soon rose. In an exchange of blows, Burn again went down from a hit on the side of his head. (Tumultuous applause, and “The big one can’t fight,” was the cry. Two to one nearly current.)

3.—This round quite satisfied the judges that if Spring had been well he must have won the battle in a canter. He hit Burn staggering all over the ring, followed him up, and gave the big one pepper at the ropes, till he went down. (Another Babel shout, and four to one was offered.)

4.—The claret was plain enough now on the mug of Burn. Spring put in a heavy claim on his opponent’s victualling office, and got away cleverly. Some sharp exchanges occurred, in which Spring received a nobber or two, and not light ones; but Burn was sent staggering and staggering, till he ultimately went down. (More betters than takers.)

5.—Spring showed great weakness; but he also showed that he knew the advantages of science, and from science alone he could win, and reduce the strength of his opponent. Burn planted a most desperate hit on the side of Spring’s head; and so keenly did it operate, as a sort of scalping touch, that the hair instantly flew off, and the place was bare. Spring, however, conked his opponent, when they closed, and, in a severe struggle for the throw, Spring broke away and hit Burn down. (“Bravo! well done, Spring; it’s all your own.”)

6.—Burn had been hit or went down in all the preceding rounds; and in this Spring fell upon his adversary heavily; after an exchange of several blows it was here again asserted that, notwithstanding the punishment Spring had administered to his opponent, it might be seen he was not a hard hitter, from the little effects visible. Perhaps this may be more of a theoretical than a practical prejudice against Spring.

7.—The latter put in a sharp bodier with his left hand, and got away; but in an exchange of blows afterwards, Burn gave Spring a heavy one on his ear. In struggling for the throw, Burn appeared much distressed, but both men fell out of the ropes.

8.—This was rather a dangerous round to Spring, and he might have lost the battle from it, although it was in his favour. Some severe blows passed on both sides, when the combatants fought their way to the ropes, and got entangled in so curious a manner that it appeared so difficult to the spectators that “Go down, Spring,” was the cry. The struggle to get the best of the throw was severe indeed; they grappled at each other’s hand, and if Shelton had not held up the rope, they were so entangled that the men must have been parted; however, by a strong effort they got away from this dilemma into the middle of the ring, when Spring hit Burn well as he was falling, but Spring also fell upon his head. (Loud shouting for Spring.)

9.—The preceding struggle had distressed Spring so much, that in setting-to he put down his hands quite exhausted; nevertheless, it turned out a severe round, and Spring jobbed his opponent so severely that, in closing, Burn was so confused that he caught hold of Spring’s nose. (Great disapprobation.) In going down Burn was undermost.

10.—The left eye of Burn was rather damaged, and Spring made play in good style. Burn scarcely ever went to work till he was nobbed into it; and then he made some good counter-hits. This was rather a sharp round; but in going down Spring was undermost.

11.—After some exchanges, Spring’s left ear showed marks of punishment. Sparring for wind, when Spring got a facer. The latter again showed bad condition, and stood still for a short period; but Burn did not turn it to account. However, after a hit or two, Spring fell down, his head upon his arm. Some slight fears were here entertained that the strength of Burn might tire out Spring.

12 to 14.—In all these rounds the fighting was on the part of Spring. Most certainly the latter never fought so well in any of his battles as in the present. He put in several hits, and got away with great agility.

15.—In this round Spring did as he pleased with his opponent; Burn’s body and head were quite at his service, and it was evident the battle must soon end. In going down Burn was also undermost. Any odds; but it was all up. Here Burn informed his second that Spring was too strong for him.

16.—In this round Burn was hit sharply; and in going down his left leg fell under him, and great fears were entertained it was broken. (“Spring for ever,” and twenty to one; indeed it was thought Burn would not come again.)

17.—Burn endeavoured to show fight, but he was again sent down at the ropes, and £10 to a crown was offered.

18 and last.—Burn was soon down, and Spring proclaimed the conqueror. Tom walked out of the ring with apparent ease, and with very few marks.

REMARKS.—Although this was pronounced a bad fight, Spring is justly entitled to much praise, from his good style of fighting, and the skill he displayed in not going “to work” too rashly, from his bad condition. Had Spring been as well as he ought, the battle must have been over in half the time. It, however, was the general opinion of the fancy, that Burn, previous to the contest, could not be disposed of in half an hour, and numerous bets were made to that effect. The judges too insisted that Spring was not a hard hitter, and they did so at the conclusion of this battle; but he repeated his blows so often on the nob of his opponent that they ultimately proved effectual. Burn, after the first round, appeared to have lost confidence. Gameness alone will not reach the top of the tree. Spring behaved bravely to his opponent, and was much applauded. He had Burn at the ropes in a defenceless state, but he saw the battle was his own, and he lifted up his hands and walked away. If it be admitted that Spring was not a hard hitter, it cannot be denied that he possessed a superior knowledge of fighting, and was too difficult a man for Burn to get at.

A match was on the _tapis_ between Spring and Sutton, the Black, but it went off.

In consequence of some dispute about impropriety of conduct, between Spring and Josh. Hudson, after the battle of Cooper and Shelton, at Moulsey Hurst, on Tuesday, June 27, 1820, a purse of £20 was immediately subscribed by the amateurs for Spring and Hudson to fight. Both men accepted the offer without the least hesitation; more especially as an amateur offered £5 to Hudson, if he would only fight one round with Spring. Five or six rounds, however, were sharply contested, in which Joshua drew the cork of his antagonist, but on his getting the worst of it, Hudson pocketed the £5, and Turner judiciously took him out of the ring. This was the fourth battle on that day. Spring looked upon this £20 as a sweetener for his recent losses on Shelton, whom he had backed. The dispute in question, it seems, was owing to Spring refusing to admit Hudson into the room where Shelton had been put to bed.

During the time Spring was at Norwich, when Painter fought with Oliver, five guineas a-side were deposited for a match between the Gas-Light Man and our hero. The backers of Hickman, however, did not come forward at the appointed time, in London, to make the stakes good, when the £5 was forfeited to Spring.

The friends of Oliver, anxious to keep the game alive, made a match for £100 a-side with Spring.

Thus the game Tom Oliver was pitched upon to try to check the upward career of Spring, and the stakes, 200 sovereigns, were made good over a jolly dinner at Belcher’s, and the day fixed for February 20, 1821. Accordingly, as this was the first spring meeting of gymnastic sports for the year, at daybreak on the following morn the Western Road was all bustle. It was a prime turn-out of the swells; upwards of nine noblemen were present; but it was a “big fight,” and that is sure to bring them to the ring. Salt Hill was the place first named; but a hint from the beaks removed it early in the morning, and the ring was again formed at about two miles from Arlington Corner. Here the magistrates again interfered, it is said, at the request of a lady of rank, whose sons were great supporters of this British sport, and the “beaks” were not to be gammoned into good humour, although Oliver had made his appearance in the ring. The bustle and confusion created to be off instanter was truly laughable, and the “devil take the hindmost” was the order of the day. But in a few minutes the scene was truly delightful. It was a perfect steeple chase. The string of carriages for miles winding round the road, the horsemen galloping and leaping over the hedges, the pedestrians all on the trot, and the anxiety displayed on every countenance to arrive in time, all following the Commander-in-Chief and Bill Gibbons with the stakes. The surprise occasioned in the villages through which his motley group passed, the children out of doors at the farm houses shouting, the “Johnny Raws” staring, the country girls grinning, the ould folks wondering what was the matter, and asking if the French were coming, the swells laughing and bowing to the females, and all the fancy, from the pink on his “bit of blood,” down to the toddler, full of life and spirits, formed a most interesting picture. At length Hayes was reached, and the ring formed without delay. Oliver threw his hat into the ring about six minutes to three, followed by Tom Owen, in his white topper, and Richmond. Spring appeared shortly afterwards, repeating the token of defiance, attended by the Champion of England and Painter. The colours, yellow for Oliver, and blue for Spring, were tied to the stakes. On meeting in the ring, the combatants shook hands together in true British style, and Spring asked Oliver how he did? “Pretty bobbish,” said Oliver, smiling; “very well.”

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, both men appeared in excellent condition, and each asserted he was never better, if so well, in his life. Oliver looked rather pale, and Spring had a small flush on his cheeks. Oliver made an offer to hit, when Spring got away. Oliver made a hit, which Spring stopped neatly. Spring endeavoured to put in a blow, which Oliver parried. A pause, and great caution on both sides. They smiled at each other’s attempts, as much as to say, “I am prepared.” Some little time occurred in sparring, when the long reach of Spring enabled him to make a hit. Oliver returned, when some exchange of blows at the corner of the ropes produced a struggle, and they both went down in a sort of scramble, Oliver on his back, and Spring nearly by his side. (“Bravo!” from the Westminster boys; “Oliver must win it.” Indeed, Oliver appeared to have the good wishes of the old fanciers.)

2.—Spring missed a hit. A pause. Spring got away from a heavy blow; in fact, the latter showed excellent science, and Oliver found his opponent a most difficult man to get at. In a close, Oliver was completely hit down, from a severe blow on the side of his head. (Loud shouting for Spring, and “That’s the way to win.”)

3.—The mouth of Oliver was cut. Spring got away with great dexterity; indeed, it was thought by the real judges of pugilism, at this early stage of the battle, that it was likely to be a long fight, but that Spring would win it. Oliver again down.

4.—In closing, a struggle took place, and Spring was undermost. (Loud shouting from Oliver’s backers, and the Westminster lads in an uproar.)

5.—Spring got away from every blow in the first part of the round. Oliver planted a left-handed body hit. In a severe struggle for the throw at the ropes, Oliver caught hold of the rope, but Spring got him down heavily, and they rolled over each other.

6.—This round the fight had nearly been at an end. Spring not only took the lead in first-rate style, but put in two heavy body blows, and fell heavily upon Oliver. His head lolled upon his shoulder, and when time was called, he could scarcely hear the vociferation of his seconds, “Tom, Tom! be awake, my boy!” the spectators crying out, “It’s all up.” Indeed it appeared so, and many of the anxious betters, who had their money upon Spring, and not wishing to give half a chance away, thought it a very long half-minute before “time” was called.

7.—The sudden start of Oliver, on recovering his recollection, the animated expression of his eyes, and putting himself in an attitude to meet his opponent, was one of the finest specimens of true courage ever witnessed; he, however, was soon sent down. (“He’s a brave creature;” “he’s an extraordinary man;” “he’s the gamest creature in the world;” were the general expressions all over the ring.)

8.—Oliver very queer. Spring punished him about the head till he was again undermost, and received another fall. (“It’s all over now—Oliver cannot recover these falls,” was the general opinion; and two to one, or, in fact, any odds.)

9.—Oliver floored from a severe nobber. Great shouting for Spring. The game displayed by Oliver astonished all the ring.

10.—Oliver again thrown, and Spring fell heavily on him.

11 to 17.—Oliver recovered, it is true, in some degree, from the severity of the fall which he received in the sixth round; but he could make no change; in fact, the chance was decidedly against him. In this round, Spring punished Oliver till he went down. The truth was, Oliver could not get at Spring.

18.—This was a sharp round, and Oliver exerted himself to win, but without effect. It was thought Spring had hit Oliver foul, but it was a blow he put in as Oliver was going down. Spring, in finishing this round, put in some tremendous body blows, after the quick manner of Randall.

19.—Clark, the friend of Oliver, now thinking that Oliver could not win, went into the ring and threw up his hat; but Oliver would continue the fight till he was hit down. Oliver might be said to be dragged up by his second, Tom Owen, who exerted himself to the utmost degree to bring the old Westminster hero through the piece. Richmond also paid every attention, but the fight was completely out of him, and the persons at the outer ring left their places.

20.—Oliver went up resolutely to Spring, determined to make a change in his favour; but it was only to receive punishment; he was again down.

21.—When time was called, Oliver not coming up directly, Spring was told that it was all over, and had got hold of his coat to put it on, when Oliver again showed fight, and was terribly hit about the head and body, till he measured his length. (“Take him away; he can’t win it.”)

22 and 23.—These rounds were fought in the greatest confusion. The ring being flogged out, the time-keeper taking refuge in the rope ring, with two or three other swells, till the rounds were finished. Oliver was now quite exhausted, but positively refused to give in.

24, 25, and last.—All these rounds were fought in the greatest confusion, and when Spring had got Oliver at the ropes, and might have fibbed him severely so as to put an end to the battle, some person cut the ropes, which let Oliver down easy. Oliver contended every inch of ground, although so much distressed: at length he was so much punished that he could not leave the knee of his second when time was called. It was over in fifty-five minutes.

REMARKS.—It is but common justice to Spring to assert, that he won this battle three times before it was over. It is true that he had no right to give a chance away, either against himself or his backers; but he plainly saw that the battle was his own; he fought without grumbling, and in acting so honourably, nay, generously, to a fine, high-couraged, game opponent, that Oliver should not have to say, “that he had not every opportunity to win, if he could.” What was more important, however, it prevented any thing like a wrangle being attempted. Spring, by his superior mode of fighting this day, raised himself highly in the estimation of the Fancy in general; in fact, the ring was much surprised that Oliver could do nothing with him. The prejudice which so long remained against Spring in respect to his not being a hard hitter, was removed in this battle. Oliver was most terribly punished; while Spring, on the contrary, had not the slightest mark on his face. The bravery of Oliver, and his exertions to win, were above all praise. Spring, in the style of a true Briton, “when the battle is ended, the heart of a lamb,” called to see Oliver, on the Friday after the fight, when they shook hands with each other in the same style of friendship as heretofore. Oliver then told Spring that he had entertained an opinion, before the fight, he was the stronger man; but that Spring was too long for him.

On Tom Cribb’s retirement from the arena, Spring considered himself champion; and soon after his conquest over Oliver, in order that it might not afterwards be brought against him that he had left the prize ring silently, he offered, by public advertisement, March 25, 1821, a challenge to all England for three months. This challenge not having been accepted, although he offered to fight Neat for £500 a-side, on August 19, nearly five months after the period stated, he entered into articles of agreement of a more tender kind, and made a match “for better or for worse.” We wish that our personal reminiscences did not unpleasantly remind us that, as regards the lady she was all “worse,” and never showed signs of “better.” He then commenced proprietor of the Weymouth Arms Tavern, in Weymouth Street, Portman Square. Spring’s opening dinner took place on Thursday, the 6th of December, 1821. The swells mustered numerously round Mr. Jackson, who presided upon this occasion; and 140 persons sat down to a prime dinner, served up, in excellent style, by Spring in person. The evening was dedicated to harmony and good-fellowship.

After the sport at Moulsey, on Wednesday, June 12th, 1822, the great match was made between Spring and Neat, subject to the following articles:

“_Red Lion, Hampton, June 12, 1822._

“Mr. Elliott, on the part of Thomas Spring, and Thomas Belcher, on the part of William Neat, have deposited £50 a-side, to make a match on the following terms:—W. Neat agrees to fight T. Spring on Tuesday, the 26th of November next, for a stake of £600 (£300 a-side), in a twenty-four feet ring, half-minute time. The place to be named by Mr. Jackson, within forty miles of London, on the Bristol road, and the umpires to be chosen on the ground. The second deposit, upon the above conditions, £100 a-side, to be made at T. Spring’s, Weymouth Arms, Weymouth Street, on the 12th of July, between the hours of four and eight o’clock. The deposit to be forfeited by the defaulter. The remainder of the stakes to be made good at T. Belcher’s, the Castle Tavern, Holborn, on the 12th of November. Mr. W. S. has received, and is answerable for, the deposit of £100.”

On the 12th of November a sporting dinner took place at Belcher’s, to make the stakes good between Neat and Spring. Belcher, on the part of Neat, completed the stakes of £200; but Mr. Elliott, the backer of Spring, did not appear, when the chairman reluctantly declared the deposit down, £150, to be forfeited to Neat.

At a sporting dinner at the One Tun, on the Friday following, November 16th, Spring informed the company that he would have attended at the Castle Tavern, on the day appointed, but his backer wished him not to leave the country on any account, as he might take cold—Mr. Elliott asserting he would make it all right. He (Spring) was now ready to make a new match for £200 a-side, for the 10th of December.

At Harry Holt’s opening dinner, at the Golden Cross, Cross Lane, Long Acre, on Friday, November 22nd, 1822, the president informed Mr. Belcher, that if the stakeholder of the £150 was indemnified, the forfeiture of that sum by the backer of Spring (Mr. Elliott) would be given up to Neat. Mr. Belcher replied, he should receive a guarantee. The president then observed that the sporting world in general were anxious to have it decided which was the best man between Spring and Neat; and that the former could be backed for £200 a-side, to fight in the course of a fortnight. Mr. Belcher, in reply, stated, that Neat, since the match had been broken off, had conducted himself more like a bird out of cage than anything else; the “gaily circling glass” had been continually up to his mouth; the result was, he could not answer for his condition, and he would not make the match so soon as a fortnight: it ought to be, at least, a month. Neat had left London for Bristol, and he had no doubt, from his gay disposition, was playing the same sort of game there; but he would write to him immediately, and whatever answer Neat returned as to time, he would then make a fight.

Spring addressed the meeting and said he was certain that Neat was in as good condition as himself. He had fretted considerably about the match being off: and this, added to his participation of “Life in London,” since his training had been so abruptly brought to an end, it might be fairly stated that he was on a par with his opponent. But, to show how anxious he was for a fight, and that the sporting world should decide which was the best man, he would extend the time to next Tuesday three weeks: that was meeting Mr. Belcher half-way. (Loud cheers, and “Well said,” “Manly,” etc., from all parts of the room.) Not a day after that time would he agree to fight Neat; he should then quit the prize ring for ever, to attend to his family and business, in order to make up for his loss of time, and great expenses in which he had been involved, owing (unfortunately for himself) to the desertion of his backer, when so many gentlemen who were present at that meeting, had they been acquainted with the circumstances, would have stepped forward to make the match.

The Fives Court was well attended on Thursday, November 28, 1823, in order to give the game Bob Purcell a turn. Carter and Spring ascended the stage together. The latter pugilist addressed the spectators, previously to his setting-to, nearly in the following words:—“Gentlemen, I feel much disappointment in the match being off between myself and Neat. I hope he will get the forfeit of £150. He is most certainly entitled to it. It was no fault of mine the match did not take place; and to show that I meant fighting, I gave a week, then a fortnight, longer to Mr. Neat than I first intended, and am now ready to make the match for £200 a-side.” (Applause.) Mr. Belcher observed, “Gentlemen, I am here for Neat; and all I can say, is this—if any gentleman will indemnify me for the £150, I will make a match immediately; but on no other account.” Spring, in reply, stated, “that it could not be expected he should indemnify Mr. Belcher, but he was ready to put down any sum required immediately. (“Bravo!—that looks like fighting.”) He, however, would not make a match after that day—he had lost too much time already, and he was determined to follow his business in future, and to take his leave of the prize ring; therefore, the match must now be made, or never.” “Very fair,” from all parts of the Court. The set-to between Spring and Carter proved attractive and good.

Three months elapsed in idle reports respecting another match between Spring and Neat, when the following articles were drawn, which set the fancy on the _qui vive_:—

“_Castle Tavern, Holborn, Wednesday, March 12, 1823._

“William Neat agrees to fight Thomas Spring for £200 a-side, in a twenty-four feet ring, half-minute time. To be a fair stand-up fight; to take place on Tuesday, the 20th day of May. The money to be placed in the hands of Mr. Jackson. The place and distance from London to be left entirely to Mr. Jackson. An umpire to be chosen by each party, and a referee to be named on the ground. £50 a-side is now deposited in the hands of Mr. Jackson. £50 a-side more to be deposited on Monday, the 31st of March, at Mr. Belcher’s, Castle Tavern; and the remainder of the stakes of £100 a-side to be completed on Monday, the 5th of May, also at Mr. Belcher’s. The above stakes to be put down between the hours of eight and eleven o’clock on each evening. The above deposit, or deposits, to be forfeited, in case of either party not appearing on the specified evenings to make the money good.”

T. Belcher signed on the part of W. Neat, and a well known gentleman amateur for T. Spring. Witness, P. E.

We preserve a little bit of justice’s justice which we think here was indisputably, impartially, and rightfully administered. Spring went into training at Brighton; he was accompanied by Tom Shelton, the latter being under articles to fight Josh. Hudson.

On Friday, April 4, 1823, a fight took place on the Downs, beyond the race-hill, between Daniel Watts and James Smith, the one a bricklayer’s labourer, the other a sawyer, and both residing in the place. An immense concourse of spectators assembled on the ground, which was just without the boundaries of the parish of Brighton, and in that of Ovingdean.

One of the men engaged in this contest, Smith, having died from congestion of the brain, Sir David Scott, a local magistrate, issued warrants for the apprehension of many parties present; and on the following morning, in consequence of information that Spring and Shelton, the celebrated pugilists, had borne an active part in the fight, they were also taken up, and brought before Sir David Scott, at a special sitting held at the New Inn. Considerable difficulty was experienced in procuring evidence, every one being anxious to conceal that he had been present; but at length several persons were found, whose testimony was in substance as follows:—That there was a person on horseback keeping the ring, and that Spring and Shelton, on foot, assisted, with whips in their hands, to keep the people back; and it was further proved that Spring had also a watch in his hand during the fight. On the strength of this evidence, Sir David Scott considered them to be accessories, having both acted in the capacity of ring-keepers, and one of them in that of time-keeper; he therefore ordered them to find bail, to keep the peace for twelve months. They both urged that they had come from London only on Tuesday or Wednesday, and that the match was made up several days before, so that they were totally ignorant of it until after their arrival at Brighton. Shelton also said, that in London, on occasions of this sort, when proceedings are taken against the principals, the umpires are never affected; but Sir David cut this argument short, by saying, that he could not consent to be guided by the practice or decisions of other magistrates, on any case that might come before him. They were unable to find bail, and were kept for a few days, at a public-house, in custody of one of the headboroughs.

Two other men, named Hazledean and Sherwood, one acting as bottle-holder to Smith, and the other as Watts’s second, were each ordered to find bail for twelve months.

Spring and Shelton, after being in custody for a week, in default of procuring the bail required of them, were liberated by Sir David Scott, on entering into their own recognizances, £100 each, to be of good behaviour for twelve months.

To all which we should merely say, with the Cornish jury, “Sarve them right.” They were imprudent, as men in training, and his worship leniently administered the law.

Tom Cribb had a jolly party at his tavern on Monday, May 3, 1823, as also had Tom Belcher. Spring was Cribb’s hero; Neat, the attractive man at the Castle Tavern. The stakes were made good for £200 a-side, and were deposited in the hands of Mr. Jackson. Spring in the course of the evening made his bow to the company; he was well received, and his health drank with great spirit. The same compliment was also paid to Neat in his absence. Mr. Belcher gave up £15 to Spring, respecting Neat’s forfeit at Bristol; therefore all disputes concerning money matters were settled. Spring offered to bet £100, according to Neat’s challenge; but Belcher said, “he had no authority to put down any money then; however, on the morning of fighting, Neat should bet him the £100.” “No!” replied Spring, “I am ready to bet the £100 now; but I shall have something else to do on the morning of the fight.” Both the principals were extremely fond of the match, and both Spring and Neat displayed the highest confidence in the event. Even betting was about the state of the thing. Spring, within the last few days, got up for choice. At Bristol the odds were high upon Neat.

Within a few days of the appointed time some of the magistrates of Berks, Wilts, and Somerset, displayed bad taste by issuing their documents to prevent an exhibition of this branch of the “fine arts” at any of the places recited. Mr. Jackson’s “chateau” at Pimlico was literally besieged by Corinthians on the Saturday previous to the fight, May 17, 1823; and the whole of the night his knocker was in motion, so numerous were the enquiries after the mill. At length the mist was dispelled; the office being given for Weyhill, Hampshire. The inns were immediately scoured for places by the stage coaches, and, at peep of day on Monday morning the roads from Gloucester, Newbury, Winchester, Bristol, Southampton, London, etc., were covered with vehicles of every description. By five o’clock in the afternoon not a bed could be procured at Andover, although a sovereign per head was offered. The “flooring” system was obliged to be adopted by many “downy” ones, and a carpet was considered a luxury. The principal taverns at Andover were filled with persons of the highest quality in the kingdom, and men and horses were obliged to put up with any shelter that could be got for money. The little towns and villages contiguous to Andover were equally overflowing with company, and thousands were on the road all night. The Mayor and Corporation of Andover, it seems, were “ear-wigged” to spoil the sport, but possessed too much sense to mulct the inhabitants of the neighbourhood.

Hinckley Down, where the battle took place, is delightfully picturesque. A hill at the back of the field formed an amphitheatre, not unlike Epsom race-course, and upwards of thirty thousand spectators had a fine view of the fight. The ring, under the superintendence of Mr. Jackson, was excellent. At one o’clock, Neat, arm-in-arm with his backer, Mr. Harrison, and Belcher, followed by Harmer, threw up his hat in the ropes amidst thunders of applause. About ten minutes afterwards Spring, with his backer, Mr. Sant, and Painter appeared, Cribb waiting for them. Spring very coolly walked up to the ropes, and dropped his beaver within them. He then shook hands with Neat, saying, “I hope you are well.” “I am very well, thank you; I hope you are,” was the reply of Neat. Spring was rather the favourite on the ground. The colours, an orange-yellow for Neat, were tied to the stakes by Belcher; the blue, for Spring, placed over them by Tom Cribb. Before the battle, Mr. Jackson entered the ring and addressed the spectators:—“Gentlemen, I have to inform you that no persons but the umpires and referee can be stationed close to the ropes; I have therefore to request that every gentleman will retire to some distance from the ring; and also, if necessity requires it, that you will give me your assistance to keep the ground clear, to prevent confusion, and to have a fair fight. I have refused to be referee, that I may walk about and attend to the ring.” (Bravo! and applause.) This address had the desired effect—the gentlemen retired to their places, the good consequences of which were that every individual had an uninterrupted view of the fight, and not the slightest disorder occurred. Oh, _si sic omnes_!

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—The interesting moment had now arrived, all doubts and fears as to a fight were at an end, and the ability of Spring to obtain the Championship was about to be put to the test. Hands were crossed and shaken, in token that no animosity existed. To describe the intense interest of this vast assemblage is impossible. Spring was fine as a star, strong as an ox, light and active as a deer, and confident as a lion. His condition was tip-top; and in truth, could not be better; his weight thirteen stone, three pounds. Neat was equally an object of admiration; his partisans were highly delighted with his appearance, and his frame was pronounced to have fully answered the good effects of training. Indeed, two finer young men could not have been opposed to each other, or a more equal match made: Neat having slightly the advantage in weight over his rival. Spring, cool, collected, firm, and confident, appeared to meet his renowned and formidable opponent, who had obtained so much fame by his conquest over the terrific Gas-light Man. Neat, equally confident—nay, more so, if his countenance bespoke his mind—thought it presumption for any boxer on the list to dispute his right to the title of Champion. A pause of two minutes occurred in looking at each other—dodging about for two minutes longer—Spring then let fly with his left hand, but no mischief done. Neat missed the body of his opponent with his right hand. Another long pause. Neat aimed a tremendous blow with his right, which Spring stopped in great style. (Applause from all parts of the ring.) A pause. Neat again attempted his favourite slaughtering hit, which Spring parried, smiling and nodding at his opponent. (Loud shouts of approbation from the spectators.) Spring put down his hands, but Neat did not avail himself of the chance. Spring immediately made himself up in one of the finest attitudes for administering punishment ever witnessed, and endeavoured to plant a hit with his right hand, which Neat stopped in the most scientific manner. (The Bristolians shouting in turn, “Bravo, Neat!” in fact applause from all parts of the ring.) Neat missed the body of Spring with his left. Spring now went to work, some blows were exchanged, but Spring’s hits were so severe that Neat turned round. (“What do you think of that ’ere for light-hitting?” a Cockney cove observed to a Bristol man who sat close to him.) They followed each other over the ring, when Spring, in retreating from some well-meant heavy blows, got into a corner close against the stake, feeling with his heel whereabouts he was situated; (“Now’s the time,” cried Tom Belcher;) but the defensive position of Spring was so excellent that he was not to be got at without great danger, which Neat perceiving did not get near enough to do anything like execution. Spring fought his way out _à la_ Randall; a close ensued, when Neat had nearly got Spring off his legs; but in struggling for the throw, Spring, with the utmost agility, turned Neat over in his arms and sent him on the ground, falling upon him. Between nine and ten minutes had elapsed. (The chaff-cutters from the Long Town were now roaring with delight—“Spring for ever—for anything—he can fight for a day and a night into the bargain.”) Seven to four on Herefordshire.

2.—The superiority displayed by Spring in the preceding round rather alarmed the backers of Neat. They did not expect it. The “lady’s-maid fighter,” as he had been libelled—the “china-man,” as he had been designated—the “light tapper,” as he had been termed—thus to set at defiance the slaughtering hitter Neat; nay more, to turn the scales and take the lead of him, operated severely on their feelings. A long pause occurred. Spring stood as firm as a rock, Neat unable to get at him; he, however, endeavoured to plant a hit, but it fell short. Both men now made themselves up for mischief, and counter-hits followed. Spring’s right went in so severely over Neat’s eye that the claret followed instantly. Spring exclaimed, “First blood, Neat.” This touch confused the Bristol hero a little; but he tried to give his opponent a heavy blow, which fell short. Spring, in return, gave him so sharp a nobber, that Neat looked round, and was nearly going down.—(Disapprobation.) The latter collected himself, and showed fight, when Spring fought his way into a close, fibbed Neat with the utmost ease, and sent him down. (The applause was like the roar of artillery. Two to one, and “Neat has no chance—it’s all up with him.” Spring, while sitting on his second’s knee, observed to Painter, smiling, “It is as right as the day; I would not take £100 to £1, and stand it—he can’t hit me in a week.”)

3.—The only chance now left to save a transfer of the Bristolians’ coin to the Metropolitan pockets, it would seem, was one of those silencing hits by which Neat had acquired his milling fame, so as to spoil Spring’s science, reduce his confidence, and take the fight out of him. All the backers of Neat were on the gaze in anxious expectation to see the “slogger” put in, which was to relieve their fears, and produce a change in their favour. Shyness on both sides. Spring endeavoured to plant a heavy right-handed hit, which Neat stopped cleverly. (Great applause, and “Well done, Neat.”) The latter smiled at this success, and Spring observed, “Well stopped!” Rather a long pause. The toes of the combatants were close together, and Spring not to be gammoned off his guard. Some blows were at length exchanged, and Spring received so heavy a hit on his ribs, that his face for the instant bespoke great pain, and his arms dropped a little; but, in closing, Spring had decidedly the advantage; and, in going down, Neat was undermost. (The Springites were now as gay as larks, offering to back their man to any amount.)

4.—Neat, instead of going up and fighting at the head of his opponent, where at least, he might have had a chance of planting some of his tremendous blows, showed no signs of going in to fight. Standing off to a superior, fine scienced boxer like Spring, almost reduced it to a certainty, that in the event he must be beaten. In his character as a heavy-hitting pugilist his strategy ought to have been to smash his shifty opponent. He could not get an opening at his length to put in any effective blows; in fact, he could not break through the guard of Spring. Neat endeavoured to plant a severe blow, which Spring stopped with the utmost ease. (Great applause; and “You’ll break his heart, Tom, if you go on in that way.”) Neat missed the body of Spring with his left hand. (Laughing, and “It’s of no use” from the crowd.) A short rally near the ropes, in which Spring had the best of it, and, in struggling for the throw, Neat experienced a tremendous fall, added to the whole weight of Spring on his body. (Shouting like thunder from thirty thousand persons.)

5.—Neat informed Belcher (while sitting on Harmer’s knee) that his arm was broken; it was, however, previously evident to every disinterested spectator, that Neat had not a shadow of chance. Neat made another stop; some blows were exchanged, and a slight rally took place; Neat broke away, the latter gave Spring a slight hit, and was going down, but he resumed his attitude. (Disapprobation.) Spring, to make all safe, was in no hurry to go to work; another pause ensued. Neat, as he was in the act of falling, received a hit, when Spring added another one on his back. (The umpires called out to Belcher, and told him “It was a stand-up fight; and Neat must take care what he was about.” “I assure you, gentlemen,” replied Mr. Jackson, “Neat received a blow.” Here Martin offered, in a very loud manner, that he would bet £1,000 to £100 on Spring. During this round, Belcher came to the side of the ropes, and in a low tone of voice told Mr. Jackson, that Neat’s arm was “fractured.” “I perceive it,” replied Mr. J., “but I shall not notice it to the other side.”)

6.—Neat hit short at Spring’s body with his left hand; holding his right in a very different position from the mode when the battle commenced. The Bristol hero was piping, and betraying symptoms of great distress. Neat, however, gave a bodier to his opponent and also made a good stop; but in a rally he received several blows, and ultimately went down.

7.—Spring was as fresh as if he had not been fighting; and, although it was now a guinea to a shilling, and no chance of losing, yet Spring was as careful as if he had had a giant before him. The latter got away from a blow. (“We can fight for a week in that manner,” said Belcher. “Yes,” replied Painter; “but we have got the general.” Neat received a severe hit on his head, and fell down on his knees. The shouts of joy from the partisans of Spring, and roars of approbation from the spectators in general beggared description.)

8th and last.—Neat endeavoured to plant a heavy blow on the body of Spring, but the latter jumped away as light as a cork. A pause. Spring was satisfied he had won the battle. Spring put in a hit on Neat’s face; and when the latter returned, he again got away. In an exchange of blows, Neat was hit down. When time was called Neat got up and shook hands with Spring, and said his arm was broken, and he could not fight any more. The battle was at an end in thirty-seven minutes.

REMARKS.—We must admit that, as championship contests, there was certainly a different colouring visible in the fights between Gully and Gregson, and Cribb and Molineaux; to witness two big ones opposed to each other for upwards of half an hour, and no mischief done, was not likely to give satisfaction to the old-fashioned admirers of milling. But the torrent of opinion was so strong in favour of Neat, both in Bristol and London, on account of his tremendous hitting, as to carry away like a flood all kind of calculation on the subject. Spring was to have been smashed, and nothing else but smashed. One hit was to have spoilt the science of Spring: two were to have taken the fight completely out of him; and the third to have operated as a _coup de grace_. Then why did not Neat smash Spring, as he did the Gas? We will endeavour to answer the question for the fallen Neat. Because he had a man of his own size and weight, a boxer of superior talent to himself, pitted against him: one that was armed at all points, and not to be diverted or frightened from his purpose. His blows were not only stopped, but all his efforts to break through the guard of his antagonist were rendered of no avail. Hence it was that the fighting of Neat appeared so defective in the eyes of his friends and backers. He was out-generalled; and the fine fighting of Spring laughed to scorn all the much-talked-of tremendous hitting of his opponent. In truth, Neat could not plant a single effective hit. In the fourth round, Neat asserted his arm received a serious injury, and one of the small bones was broken; but we have no hesitation in asserting, that Spring had won the battle before it occurred. Spring triumphantly disproved the current libel on his character, that “he could not make a dent in a pound of butter.” To give punishment, and to avoid being hit, is deemed the triumph of the art of boxing. Randall was distinguished for this peculiar trait in all his battles, Spring adopted the same mode, and by so doing he did not disgrace his character as a boxer: on the contrary, he showed himself a safe man to back, and reduced success to a certainty. Spring called on Neat after the battle, whom he found in bed, and his arm put to rights by a surgeon. The latter said, “I am not beaten, but I lost the battle by the accident.” Spring generously made Neat a present of ten pounds. Spring arrived in town on Wednesday night, but he did not sport the colours of his adversary until after he had quitted the town of Andover, and received the shouts and smiles attendant on victory from the populace in all the towns through which he passed. He had a slight black mark on his eye, and his arm in a sling, one of the bones of his right hand having received an injury.

The abrupt conclusion of the battle produced sensations among the backers of Neat not easily described, and such coarse expressions were uttered by the disappointed ones as we cannot give place to in print. The Bristolians were outrageous in the extreme; a few of them positively acted like madmen; others were dejected and chapfallen. Neat was thought to be invulnerable by his countrymen, and also by the majority of sporting people throughout the kingdom. A few silly persons, in their paroxysm of rage and disappointment, pronounced the above event a cross.

We feel anxious for the honour of the ring, and no exertions on our part shall be wanting to preserve it. Tom Belcher and Neat both courted inquiry on the subject. It was the expressed opinion of a spectator of the fight, that “if Neat had possessed four arms instead of two, he never could have conquered Spring.”

It is utterly impossible to describe the anxiety which prevailed in the metropolis to learn the event of the battle on Tuesday evening, May 20, 1823. Belcher’s house was like a fair; Randall’s crowded to suffocation; Holt’s not room for a pin; Harmer’s overflowing; Shelton’s like a mob; Eales’ overstocked; and Tom Cribb’s crammed with visitors. Both ends of the town, East and West, were equally alive, and profited by the event. Hampshire had not had such a turn since the day when Humphries and Mendoza fought at Odiham. Thus was good derived by thousands of persons not in any way connected with the event. Several wagers were won in London after eight o’clock at night on Spring—so high did Neat stand in public opinion.

At Shelton’s benefit, May 22nd, 1823, after several spirited bouts, Spring was loudly called for; he addressed the assemblage in the following terms:—“Gentlemen, I return you my sincere thanks for the honour you have done me to-day, and I hope my future conduct will equally merit your kind attention. I promised to set-to with Shelton; but having met with an accident (his hand was tied up with a handkerchief), I trust you will excuse me; at all other times, you will find me willing and ready to obey your commands.” Shelton returned thanks; and Belcher likewise informed the audience that his benefit took place on Tuesday, May 27, when Neat would be present, in order to convince the amateurs that his arm was broken in the fight with Spring. The latter received from Mr. Jackson the £200 of the battle-money as the reward of victory. Mr. Jackson also publicly declared, for the satisfaction of the sporting world, that, in company with two eminent surgeons, he had seen Neat; and those two gentlemen had pronounced the small bone of his arm to have been broken.

Spring now paid a visit to his native place. Fortune had favoured him, and he was not unmindful of old friends. Here he was also not only remembered, but respected; and a cup, made by Messrs. Grayhurst and Harvey, of the Strand, was presented to him. This cup, known as “the Hereford Cup.” The inscription and description are as follows:—

“1823. TO THOMAS WINTER, Of Fownhope, in the County of Hereford, This Cup was presented, By his Countrymen of the Land of Cider, In Token of their Esteem for the Manliness and Science Which, in many severe Contests in the Pugilistic Ring, Under the name of SPRING, Raised him to the proud Distinction of THE CHAMPION OF ENGLAND.”

The inscription is surrounded by a handsome device of apples, etc., at the bottom of which is the representation of two game-cocks at the close of a battle, one standing over the other. On the other side of the cup is a view of the P.R., with two pugilists in attitudes. Upon the top or lid of the cup is a cider-barrel placed on a stand. The inside is gilt; and it is large enough to hold a gallon of “nectar divine.” It has two elegantly chased handles, and a fluted pedestal.

About this period a new milling star arose in the west, in the person of Jack Langan; and during a tour in the north of England some correspondence took place between them, which is not worth reprinting. On Thursday, October 23, 1823, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, Belcher, on the part of Langan, deposited £50 towards making a match for £300 a-side with Spring. On the articles being completed, Spring offered £100 to £80, p. p., that he won the battle. Monday, December 1, 1823, the backers of the “Big Ones” dined together at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, but neither Spring nor Langan showed upon the occasion. However, when time was called by the president of the D. C., the blunt was ready. The Ould Champion (Tom Cribb) who attended on the part of his boy, Spring, said that he had only one hundred pounds to put down; while, on the behalf of Langan, Belcher insisted that the spirit of the articles required £150, and he was ready to put down £150 for Langan. The question was fairly discussed by the meeting; and the president decided in favour of the majority—that if £100 a-side were put down, the articles would be complied with. The Ould Champion rose with some warmth, and said, “He was not particular, and if the other party wished it, he would make the £300 a-side good immediately; or he would increase the match between Langan and Spring up to 1,000 guineas. He (Tom Cribb) was quite certain that Langan meant fighting, and if the latter wished to increase the stakes, he and his party had an opportunity of doing it.”

On Thursday, January 1, 1824, the whole of the stakes of £600 were made good over a sporting dinner at Tom Cribb’s. When time was called, Belcher showed at the mark on the part of Langan, and put down £150. Cribb also, for his boy Spring, instantly fobbed out £150. At the head of the table, before the president, was placed the “Ould Champion’s” silver cup, and Spring’s cup was also seen before the deputy-president. The John Bull fighter was present, and, by way of keeping the game alive, offered to give two guineas to fight Langan, let him win or lose, for £200 a-side; and likewise, that he would take ten guineas for £200 a-side with Spring. The true courage of Josh. Hudson was greatly admired, and loudly applauded. The dinner was good, the wines were excellent, and the company separated well pleased with their evening’s entertainment. Spring was decidedly the favourite, at two to one; two and a half to one was also betted; and in one instance £300 to £100 was laid. In consequence of Langan being a complete stranger to the sporting world the fancy were inclined to bet the odds, instead of taking them.

The sight at Worcester on Wednesday, January 7, 1824, was beyond all former example. Upwards of thirty thousand persons were present; nay, several calculators declared, to the best of their belief, that not less than fifty thousand people were assembled. Proprietors of splendid parks and demesnes; inmates from proud and lofty mansions; groups from the most respectable dwellings; thousands from the peaceful cot; and myriads from no houses at all—in a word, it was a conglomeration of the fancy. Peers, M.P.s, yokels of every cast, cockneys, and sheenies throwing “away their propertish” without a sigh that it cost so much “monish” to witness the grand mill. The roads in every direction round Worcester beggared description. The adventures at the inns would furnish subjects for twenty farces, and the company in the city of Worcester was of so masquerading a character as to defy the pen; even the pencil of a George Cruikshank would be at fault to give it effect. The grand stand was filled to an overflow in every part, with two additional wings or scaffolds erected for the occasion. Ten shillings were paid for the admission of each person. The masts of the vessels in the river Severn, which flowed close behind, moored on each side of the stand, were overloaded with persons; and even temporary scaffolds, about two stories high, outside of the wagons, were filled by anxious spectators, regardless of danger, so great was the public curiosity excited by this event. Let the reader picture to himself a spacious amphitheatre, encircled by wagons, an outer roped ring within for the many-headed, who stood up to their knees in mud. What is termed the P. C. Ring was raised about two feet from the ground, covered with dry turf, with a cart-load of sawdust sprinkled over it. The race-course was so intolerably bad and full of slush that all the scavengers and mudlarks from the metropolis could not have cleansed it in a week. Outside the wagons the ground displayed one complete sheet of water; and several lads, who were jolly enough to save a few yards of ground by jumping over ditches, measured their lengths in the water, receiving a complete ducking, to the no small amusement of the yokels. What will not curiosity do? Here swells were seen sitting down in the mud more coolly than if lolling on a sofa. Not a place could be obtained in the stand after ten o’clock. The city of Worcester was full of gaiety early in the day; the streets were filled by the arrival of coaches and four, post-chaises, mails, and vehicles of every description, blowing of horns, and the bells ringing. A Roman carnival is not half so hearty a thing as a prize-fight used to be when the people’s hearts were in it.

Spring rode through the town in a stylish barouche and four (Colonel Berkeley’s) about twelve o’clock. The postilions were in red, and everything _en suite_. He arrived on the ground by half-past twelve, amidst the shouts of the spectators, and drove close up to the ropes in a post-chaise. He threw his hat into the ring, accompanied by Tom Cribb and Ned Painter. He was dressed with striking neatness. At this period all were on the look-out for Langan, but a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and no Langan—half an hour gone, and no Paddy—three-quarters over, and still no Irish Champion in sight. Spring pulled out his watch, and said, “It is time.” In the midst of the hour, waiting for the arrival of Langan, the right wing belonging to the stand gave way, and fifteen hundred persons, at least, were thrown in a promiscuous heap. It was an awful moment. To give any description of the feelings of the spectators baffles attempt. Spring turned pale, and said, “How sorry I am for this accident.” In a few minutes composure was restored, it being ascertained that nothing material had occurred, except a few contusions, and some of the persons limping away from the spot. “Thank God!” ejaculated Spring, “I would not have had it happen while I was fighting for a hundred thousand pounds!” The John Bull boxer had now become impatient, and exclaimed, “This is strange! Where’s my man?” “I’ll bet ten to one,” said a swell, “he don’t mean to come at all.” “I’ll take it, sir,” said an Irishman, “a thousand times over.” “No,” was the reply—“I meant I would take it.” The stakes would certainly have been claimed by Spring, but no precise time was specified in the articles. It was, as the lawyers say, a day in law—meaning “any time within the day:” the time had not been mentioned in black and white. Nearly an hour had elapsed, when several voices sung out from the stand, “Josh. Hudson! Josh. Hudson! Langan wishes to see you.” The John Bull fighter bolted towards the place like lightning, and in a few minutes afterwards shouts rending the air proclaimed the approach of the Irish Champion. He did not, like most other boxers, throw his castor up in the air, but in the most modest way possible leaned over the ropes and laid it down. He immediately went up and shook hands with Spring. The latter, with great good nature, said, “I hope you are well, Langan.” “Very well, my boy; and we’ll soon talk to each other in another way.” The men now stripped, when Reynolds went up to Spring, and said, “I understand you have got a belt on, and whalebone in it; if you persist in fighting in such belt, I shall put one on Langan.” Spring replied (showing a belt such as are worn by gentlemen when riding), “I have always fought in this, and shall now.” “Then,” replied Reynolds (putting on a large belt, crossed in various parts with a hard substance), “Langan shall fight in this.” “No, he won’t,” said Cribb; “it is not a fair thing.” “Never mind,” urged Spring, “I’ll take it off;” which he did immediately. Josh. Hudson and Tom Reynolds were the seconds for Langan, and the Irish Champion declared he was ready to go to work. The colours were tied to the stakes; and, singular to state, black for Langan, which he took off his neck and blue for Spring. “This is new,” said Josh.; “but nevertheless, the emblem is correct as to milling (laughing); it is black and blue; I’ll take one hundred to one, we shall see those colours upon their mugs before it is over.” The time was kept by Lord Deerhurst, afterwards Earl of Harrington, who was also Spring’s umpire, while Sir Harry Goodricke was umpire for Langan; Colonel Berkeley acted as referee. Five to two, and three to one on Spring.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—On stripping, the bust of Langan was much admired for its anatomical beauty; his arms also were peculiarly fine and athletic; and his nob looked like a fighting one. His legs were thin; his knees very small, and his loins deficient as to strength. It was evident he had been reduced too much in training. Langan did not exceed twelve stone four pounds, and was nearly two inches shorter than his opponent. Spring was in fine condition; cool and confident, and a stone heavier than his adversary. On placing themselves in attitude, the advantages were manifest on the side of the English Champion. The combatants kept at a respectful distance from each other; both on the look-out for an opening. Spring at length made a hit, which Langan stopped with skill. The Champion slowly advanced, and Langan kept retreating, till he was near the stake at the corner of the ring. At this instant the position of Langan was not only fine but formidable, and Spring did not view it with contempt. The latter let fly right and left, and Langan’s left ogle received a slight touch. Spring got away from a heavy body blow. A pause. An exchange of blows, but no mischief done; Langan broke ground well. Another pause. Langan again in the corner, smiling, in a position armed at all points; Spring’s eye measuring his opponent, but hesitating to go in. Langan endeavoured to plant a body blow with his left hand, when Spring jumped away as light as a cork. Here Langan put his thumb to his nose, by way of derision. The latter stopped Langan’s left hand. “Fight away, Jack,” said Josh. Hudson, “he can’t hurt nobody.” Some blows were exchanged sharply, when the John Bull fighter, and Tom Reynolds, exclaimed, “First blood!” “No,” replied Spring. “Yes,” urged Hudson, “it is on your lip.” A long pause. Langan made a good stop with his right hand. Some hits passed between the combatants, when they closed, and a severe struggle ensued to obtain the throw; both down, but Langan uppermost. This round occupied nine minutes. “This battle will not be over in half an hour,” said a good judge.

2.—It was seen, in this early stage of the battle, that Langan would require heavy work to take the fight out of him. Spring was very cautious, and appeared as if determined not to receive any of Paddy’s clumsy thumps. A long pause. Langan hit Spring with his left hand on the body. The latter planted a tremendous facer on the top of Langan’s nose, that produced the claret; but the Irishman shook it off. Science displayed on both sides. After a long pause Spring put down his hands. The English Champion appeared to have made up his mind not to be hit, but to be liberal in the extreme—to give and not to take. Langan again displayed skill in stopping. (At this juncture the left wing of the temporary scaffold erected for the accommodation of the spectators, gave way with a tremendous crash, and upwards of one thousand persons, from the height of thirty feet, were precipitated one upon the other in one confused mass. The countenance of Spring, whose face was towards the accident, underwent that sort of sensation which did honour to his feelings and to his heart—he appeared sick with affliction at the circumstance, put up his hands, indicating that his mind was perplexed whether he should quit the ring or proceed with the battle.) Langan received a heavy blow on his left eye; and both went down in a close.

3.—Both cautious. Spring put down his hands. Langan tried his left hand twice; but Spring jumped away. “Take care of your plum-pudding, boy!” said Josh., “he’s coming.” In closing Langan went down.

4.—The slightest offer on the part of Langan to make a hit never escaped the wary eye of Spring, and the latter got away with the utmost dexterity and ease; Langan followed his opponent to the ropes; but Spring stopped a heavy hit. In closing, at the corner of the ropes, both went down, but Langan uppermost.

5.—This was a short round. The Irish Champion ran in, hit Spring, and also bored him down. “You have got the great man down, at all events,” said Josh.

6.—Langan’s left peeper was nearly closed; but, in struggling for the throw, Spring went down heavily on his head.

7.—Twenty-five minutes had elapsed, and nothing like mischief to either combatant had yet taken place. A long pause. Langan made two good stops, when he run in, and by dint of strength got Spring on the ropes; a severe struggle took place till both down. The spectators were now getting close to the ropes; and the whips were hard at work, to keep the space allotted to the boxers.

8.—Langan received a nobber without giving any return. Another tedious pause. Spring, as lively as an eel, jumped backwards from a hit. Pause the second. The attitudes of the men were considered peculiarly fine at this instant. Langan appeared formidable. The English Champion put in two facers left and right. Langan could not reach the body of Spring effectually: the left hand of the latter could not get home. In struggling for the throw Langan was undermost.

9.—The science and patience displayed by Spring rendered him a truly troublesome, nay, a very tiresome customer to Langan. The Irish Champion threw Spring in good style.

10.—Spring waiting at his leisure for Langan to commence hitting. Langan, however, was not to be gammoned to go in, without something like a chance offering itself. Spring put in a slight nobber, which produced an exchange of blows. A very long pause. Langan’s left hand touched the body of his opponent. This was a tedious round. In struggling at the ropes, both down, but Spring uppermost.

11.—Without the Irish Champion ran in he could not make a hit to a certainty. Both down, Langan undermost.

12.—Spring got away from almost every blow aimed at him. In closing, Spring was thrown heavily.

13.—Langan came to the scratch smiling, and said, “You see I am always ready.” Spring jumped two yards back from a body blow. An exchange of hits but no mischief. Spring was again thrown.

14.—In all the preceding rounds, though Langan had received several nobbers, he was not in the slightest degree reduced as to courage. On the contrary, he was as gay as a lark. Langan observed to Spring, “My boy, I can fight for a week.” “Yes,” said Josh., “for a month, if you get no heavier blows than you have received already. I’m sure it is not safe to the Champion; his honours are shaking, if not upon the go.” Langan was thrown.

15.—Langan’s nose was pinked a little, and his left eye swelled up. In closing, both down.

16.—The length of Spring enabled him to make a hit without any return. The caution manifested by the English Champion perfectly satisfied the spectators that he meant to give, but not to take. Langan, by strength alone, got his opponent down.

17.—After looking at each other for some time, Langan bored in. At the ropes both were down, Spring undermost.

18.—This was a tedious round. Nothing done. Both down.

19.—“Go to work, Spring,” from several spectators. “All in good time,” replied Tom. “Never fear,” said Langan, “I am ready for anything,” An exchange of blows; but the combatants were out of distance. Both down.

20.—Langan could not reach Spring effectively at the scratch; he therefore bored in. At the ropes Spring tried the weaving system till both were upon the ground.

21.—Langan threw Spring out of the ropes; and, with much jocularity and good nature, observed, laying hold of Spring’s arm, “If I sent you down, I have a right to pick you up!” (“Bravo! What a strange fellow!”)

22.—Both down, Spring uppermost.

23.—Langan stopped several blows skilfully; but he was not tall enough for his opponent. In closing, Spring went down heavily, and Langan upon him.

24.—Spring put in a body hit. In closing, both down.

25.—Spring was undermost in the fall.

26.—This was a good round, in comparison with several of the preceding sets-to. Langan again put out his strength, and Spring was undermost on the ground.

27.—The Irish Champion ran his opponent completely down.

28.—One hour and fourteen minutes had elapsed, and the Irish Champion still as good as gold. Langan took the lead rather in this round. He planted a couple of hits, and also threw Spring.

29.—Langan, it was thought, had decidedly the best of this round also. He hit Spring; and, in closing, a severe struggle took place; but ultimately Langan threw Spring over the ropes. (“Bravo, Langan.”)

30.—Of no consequence. Both down.

31.—In this round, Spring was thrown upon his head. (“How well the Irishman throws,” was the remark.)

32.—In several of the preceding rounds Spring planted some facers; but they were not heavy enough to take the pluck out of Langan. (“How bad Spring fights to-day,” was the observation of an old backer of the English Champion. This was not the fact; Spring appeared to fight with more caution than usual; the blows of Langan were to be avoided at all events, if the battle was to be made perfectly safe to Spring. The truth was, that Langan’s right hand was dangerous, and a well-directed blow, at a proper distance, on the mark, or on the nob, might have reduced the science of Spring.) Langan napped a facer; but Spring was undermost in the fall.

33.—The left hand of the Irish Champion told on his opponent’s body. Several blows passed, and Langan put in a hit on the side of Spring’s head. Both down, Langan undermost.

34.—Langan went sharply up to Spring, but he received a nobber and went down.

35.—The Irish Champion, as fresh as a daisy, appeared at the scratch. In closing at the ropes Spring endeavoured to fib his opponent till both went down. The ring was in much confusion, and the P. C. men had their work to do to keep it clear.

36.—If Spring did not please the multitude by his smashing qualities, his backers expressed themselves well pleased with the caution he displayed. Lots of blunt, as to long odds, had been sported upon the English Champion; but his friends began to be somewhat apprehensive that the strength and throwing of Langan, might tire out Spring. Some exchanges, but both down.

37.—Langan hit Spring slightly. On the whole this might be termed a fighting round. In closing, a desperate struggle took place; Spring undermost.

38.—This was also an excellent fighting round. Langan laughed at Spring, saying, “You have done nothing yet!” “All in good time,” replied Spring, “I shall do it at last.” Langan planted two blows on the side of Spring’s head; but the Irishman wanted length to do severe mischief. Both fell, and Cribb, in the bustle, was also on the ground.

39.—Spring gave his opponent a noser, when a few hits passed till both went down.

40.—Langan received another nobber. Both down.

41.—This was a tedious round; neither combatant would go to work for some time. In closing, Spring obtained the fall, and was uppermost.

42.—Langan kept trying his left hand, in order to punish Spring’s body; but the latter got away so cleverly, that the blows of the Irish Champion were not effective. Spring undermost in the throw.

43.—A desperate trial of strength on the part of Langan to obtain the fall, which the Irish Champion ultimately accomplished, Spring being undermost.

44.—Langan planted two body blows with his left hand. Langan was thrown; and Spring fell upon his knees.

45.—Spring cautious; Langan full of spirits. (Most of the fighting men exclaimed, “He is the best Irishman ever seen in the ring. He is the gamest man alive!” Here Martin observed to a Corinthian, “What a pity it is that the backers of Langan had no more judgment than to place him in opposition to Spring.”) Spring had the best of this round, and Langan was fibbed down at the ropes.

46.—Langan made a hit. An exchange of blows, but the Irish Champion slipped and went down.

47.—The ring was getting worse every round. In closing, both down.

48.—The men had not room for their exertions. The spectators were close upon the combatants, and the utmost disorder prevailed. In closing, Langan threw Spring.

49.—Some severe struggling; the English Champion fibbing Langan till he went down.

50.—The face of Spring did not exhibit any marks of punishment, but the left hand of Langan had told now and then upon his body. The English Champion appeared getting weak from the struggles, and from several heavy falls. Both down.

51.—The rounds were now short—the crowd pressing upon the men at every step they took. Spring received a heavy hit on the side of his head. In closing, both went down.

52.—Close quarters. An exchange of blows; both again down.

53.—Langan hit Spring, and also got him down.

54.—The English Champion had no room now to jump away from his antagonist. Spring, in closing, fibbed Langan down.

55.—Struggling for the throw, but Langan undermost.

56.—The outer roped ring had been for the last hour in the greatest disorder. The constables’ long poles were useless; the whips of the fighting men were of no avail; and the mob was now close up to the ring. Spring put in the most hits on the nob of his opponent; but the strength of Langan in getting Spring down surprised every one present. Both down.

57.—Spring received a fall, and Langan upon him.

58.—So much disorder now prevailed, that it was difficult for those persons who were placed only at a few yards’ distance from the ring to see the fight. Langan on the ground, and undermost.

59.—Spring had not room to display his science, but he endeavoured to hit Langan as the latter rushed in. Spring had the worst of the throw.

60.—Cribb, at this instant, was so pressed upon by the crowd, that, in a violent rage, he declared he would give a floorer to any person who stood in his way. “Here’s a pretty go!” said Tom, “a set of fellows with books and pencils in their hands, pretending to be reporters. A parcel of impostors! I don’t care; I’ll hit anybody.” One of the umpires, a noble lord, was hit with a shillelah by a rough Patlander, who was attempting to get a little space for Langan, and when informed that he was behaving rude to a nobleman, “Devil may care,” says Pat; “all I want is fair play for Jack Langan. There’s no difference here: lords are no better than commoners. Faith! I can’t distinguish them one from another, at all, at all!” Langan ran in and gave Spring a blow on the head: but, in struggling for the throw, the Irish Champion was undermost.

61.—When time was called, “Here we are,” said Langan. Spring had only time to make a hit, when Langan bored in; but Spring again had the best of the throw, Langan being undermost.

62.—Nothing. Langan bored Spring down.

63.—Spring had decidedly the best of this round. He made several hits; and Langan received an ugly throw.

64.—“Go to work, Erin-go-bragh! Spring has no hits left in him. You must win it,” said Josh. Langan followed this advice, and some sharp work was the result. Spring could not retreat. Fighting till both down.

65.—(“Go in, Jack,” said Josh., “as you did the last time, and you will soon spoil his fine science.” Langan rushed in, but Spring avoided his blow. In closing, the struggle to obtain the throw was violent in the extreme, but Langan got it; Spring came down on his back, and Langan on him, and the breath of the Champion was nearly shaken out of his body. Spring was picked up by Cribb in a weak state, and looked extremely pale. Here two or three persons hallooed out six to four on Langan, but the confusion was so great that no bets could be made.)

66.—In this round the English Champion put in a tremendous nobber, and also fibbed Langan down. (“That’s a settler,” said a bystander. “Indeed it is not,” replied a Paddy, “Spring will not settle his account this time.” (Laughing.) “Where’s Jack Randall?” says Josh.; “here’s a countryman for you! Spring’s tired of it. He can’t hit a dent in a pound of butter.” “Well done, Josh.,” said Spring, smiling, “chaff away. I’ll give you all you can do, except winning.” “We can’t lose it,” replied the John Bull fighter.)

67.—Spring was still cautious: he would not give a chance away. Both down.

68.—Langan’s left hand told on Spring’s body; but the Irish Champion received a nobber for it. Langan seemed determined to have Spring down, at all events. The struggle for the throw was severely contested; Langan got Spring undermost.

69.—Short; a hit or two passed, when both were down.

70.—Langan’s face looked the worse for the battle, but his eye retained all its fire and animation; the other peeper had been nearly darkened for an hour and a half. “I am sure,” said Josh., “that Langan has made a contract with Spring for seven years; this is a fine specimen of one of his fighting days.” Both men were getting weak, but Langan always got up when time was called, saying, “I am ready!” In the throw, Langan was undermost.

71.—The ring was now in confusion; yet some of the sharpest rounds were fought. Spring received another fall, and was undermost.

72.—The general opinion in the twenty-four foot ring (which was nothing else but a crowd), appeared to be, that Spring would win; nevertheless the countenances of Spring’s backers indicated it was not quite safe. Spring had no room to get away. Colonel Berkeley, the referee, said, “I am so disgusted with the treatment I have experienced, that I will give up the watch. Here is no ring. It is impossible to stand still a second, without being assailed with a cut from a whip, or a blow from a stick, and no good done either.” In no fight whatever was there such a scene of confusion in the space allotted for the men to fight. In closing, both down. During the time Spring was on Painter’s knee, Sampson, Oliver and Israel Belasco, were giving advice. “Hallo!” said Josh., “do you call this fair play? How many seconds is Spring to have?” and, snatching a whip out of a bystander’s hand, endeavoured to whip out the ring, followed by Oliver. “Only give us a chance,” cried Josh., “and we can’t lose it.” Nothing foul appeared to be attempted on the part of Spring or on the side of Langan. The constables were mixed in the mob, struggling for breath; the fighting men hoarse with calling out, “Clear the ring,” and dead beat from the exertions they had made. Nothing less than a company of Horse Guards could have made out a ring at this period, so closely jammed were the spectators.

73.—The courage, confidence, and good spirits displayed by Langan, excited the admiration of every beholder. He was too short in the arm for Spring: he could not reach his head without rushing in to mill. Langan left his second’s knee rather weak; in closing, he was fibbed severely by Spring, who was well assured he had not a minute to lose. The English Champion was cool, felt his situation, and his knowledge and experience in the prize ring gave him the advantage when the nicety of the thing was required.

74.—On Langan placing himself in attitude, “Go and fight,” said Cribb to Spring; when the Champion went to work without delay, and Langan received a heavy blow in the middle of his head, and went down. (“Twenty to one,” said a swell, “he’ll not come again.”)

75.—The Irish Champion appeared the worse for the last round, and, on his appearing at the scratch, Spring commenced the attack, when Langan returned with great spirit; but Spring had decidedly the best, and Langan was fibbed down, his face covered with claret. (“Take the brave fellow away.” “I will not be taken away—who dare say so?” exclaimed Langan.)

76.—Spring was now determined to lose no time, and again went to work; but Langan showed fight, and struggled to obtain the throw: both down. (“Take him away!” Langan’s head rested on his second’s shoulder till time was called. The Springites roared out—“It’s as right as the day. Ten pounds to a crown the battle is over in five minutes.”)

77th and last.—Langan came up quite groggy, but full of pluck. Spring now administered heavy punishment with both hands and Langan fell quite exhausted. Reynolds had great difficulty in getting him from the ground; he was in a state of stupor, and his eye closed. Several gentlemen said, “Do not let the brave fellow fight any more; Reynolds, take him away; it is impossible he can meet Spring any more.” When time was called, Langan was insensible—and Josh. Hudson gave in for him. Half a minute after, Langan opened his eyes, still sitting on the knee of his second. When he was told that the fight was over, he said, “His second had no right to give in for him. He could fight forty more rounds.” “Don’t leave the ring, Spring,” several persons cried out. Cribb told Langan, “The battle was over;” and Painter observed, “Don’t let so good a man be killed; he does not know what he is talking about!” The umpire was asked for his decision, and he said, “Langan did not come when time was called; therefore he had lost the battle, according to the rules of pugilism.” Upon this answer, and decision of the umpire, Spring left the ring, amidst the shouts of the populace, Langan roaring out, “I am not beaten—clear out the ring—I can fight for four hours.” In the course of a few minutes, he left the ring, and, as he approached the Grand Stand, he was received with applause, and jumped over some ropes in his way with agility. The battle lasted two hours and twenty-nine minutes.

REMARKS.[3]—In consequence of the breaking in of the ring, the struggles, and repeated falls of the men, it is impossible for any reporter to be strictly accurate as to the precise rounds fought. The battle would have terminated much sooner could Spring have used his left hand effectively, but after the eighth round he could only use it defensively, having injured his knuckles by bringing them in violent contact with Langan’s nut. He has, however, proved himself one of the safest boxers over known, and as Dusty Bob observes, “never gives a chance avay. Another circumstance that retarded the final issue was the destruction of the inner ring; the combatants were so closely surrounded that they had no room for action, which was greatly to the disadvantage of Spring, whose fine science was set at nought in such close quarters. Langan has proved himself a perfect glutton, and the best big Irishman that ever appeared in the P.R. He has hitherto been unknown to the London Ring, and the wonder is, how such a novice could make so long a stand against the best man in it, and his superior in weight by nearly half a stone.” The remarks conclude with some observations upon the persons who had erected stands for the spectators, which, although the charges were exorbitant, were so insecure as to cause serious injuries to many of their customers. Not less than twenty persons were seriously injured, many having broken bones, while an equal number were more or less bruised. After deducting sufficient to pay the ring-keepers, out of the money collected for admission to the ring, there remained £200, which was divided equally between Spring and Langan. At the conclusion of the fight, Cribb said to Langan, “You are a brave man indeed.” “I never saw a better,” replied Painter. Even betting occurred several times in the fight for small sums; and six to four was offered on Langan in light bets, after the fight had lasted two hours.

A voluminous paper war followed this fight, stimulated by “the historian,” who at this period edited a weekly, called _Pierce Egan’s Life in London_. The “milling correspondence,” as it was termed, became as verbose and inconsequential as diplomatic circular notes or the “protocols” on the Schleswig-Holstein question. Langan, Spring, Tom Reynolds, Josh. Hudson, and Cribb, by their amanuenses, or self-appointed secretaries, figured in print in what they would have called in their vernacular, the “’fending and proving” line; but the great gun was Tom Reynolds, primed and charged by Pierce himself. The very reading of his letters, and weary reading they are, reminds us of the Bastard Falconbridge’s description of the magniloquent citizen of Angiers:—

“He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce; He gives the bastinado with his tongue; Our ears are cudgelled; not a word of his But buffets better than a fist of France. Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words Since I first called my brother’s father ‘dad.’”

Reynolds proved too much in these letters (several of which serve to “pad” out the bulk of “Boxiana”) by charging conduct upon men whose whole life gave the lie to such imputations.

On the 19th of February, 1824, Langan had a bumper benefit at the Tennis Court, and, at its close, thus addressed the audience:—“Gentlemen, I thank you for the honour you have conferred upon me, and I beg to assure you, on the honour of an Irishman (placing his hand on his breast), if I have the good fortune again to enter the ring, that no effort shall be wanting on my part to make it a more pleasant and agreeable ‘mill’ than the last in which I was engaged. Gentlemen, I am ready to fight any man who calls himself Champion of England, for any sum, from three hundred to a thousand, upon a boarded stage, like this, in the same way as Cribb fought Molineaux.”

This challenge produced the following epistle from Spring to the Editor of _Pierce Egan’s Life in London_:—

“SIR,

“Your paper, and others of the public journals, have of late teemed with idle correspondence on the subject of my fight with Langan. Of Langan I have nothing to say, but that I consider him a brave fellow in the ring, and a good fellow out of it; but in order to put an end to all further chaffing, and to bring our matters to a clear understanding, I have only this to observe: Langan, at his own benefit, publicly stated that “he was ready to fight any man who called himself Champion of England, on a stage, for from £300 to £1,000.” Now, I have been pronounced the character he describes, and I am ready to fight Langan, or any other man, for £500, in a roped ring on the turf, or for £1,000 in any way that himself or his friends may think proper to suggest—on an iron pavement if they choose. This is my final answer to all challenges; and I shall be at the Fives’ Court to-morrow, at Turner’s benefit, and come to the scratch if called.

“I am, sir, yours most respectfully, “THOMAS W. SPRING.

“_February 24, 1824._”

This was followed by a letter (bearing internal marks of proceeding from the pen of Tom Reynolds) magniloquently entitled—

“THE IRISH CHAMPION’S DECLARATION TO THE SPORTING WORLD.

“GENTLEMEN,

“Mr. Spring, in his letter, speaks of his wish to avoid ‘chaffing, and bring matters to a right understanding’ between him and me. To show you, therefore, the chaffing is not on my side, and that I am really anxious to have matters clearly understood, I beg leave to submit the following facts to your judgment:—

“When I challenged him in Manchester, for £100 a-side, he pretended to treat my offer with contempt (though he had never, but in one instance, fought for more), and named £500 as the least stake, a sum three times greater than any for which he had contended. But though he was afterwards shamed into agreeing for £300 a-side, yet he calculated on my inability to raise so much; and, to prevent my doing so, he and his friends, besides throwing other obstacles in my way, contrived to induce the gentleman who agreed to put down the whole sum for me to withdraw his patronage, so that it was with the utmost difficulty I raised the battle-money.

“As to the battle, it is needless to repeat that I have good reasons to complain of the treatment I experienced. Every unprejudiced witness will bear me out in this, and my friends are so satisfied with my conduct, that they are ready to back me against Spring for £500, on a stage, which they think the only way of guarding against a repetition of unfair treatment. But when Spring finds me thus supported, he raises his demand to £1,000, on the ground that I challenged him to fight for any sum from £300 to £1,000. My words were, that I would fight him for from £300 to £500, or for £1,000, if I were backed, and I do not deny them; for if I had £100,000 I would confidently stake it. But £500 is a sum between £300 and £1,000; and if I could get backed for £1,000, I should rejoice at it, as it would at once do away with this excuse of Spring. I think, however, that it will not tell much for his credit, if he continues to reject the £500, which I can command, and £50 of which I am ready to lay down at Belcher’s, to make the match, any time he thinks proper. I believe nine out of ten in the sporting world will agree that Spring cannot honourably refuse this proposal, were it only to meet the complaint of foul play, which I am justified in making with regard to the former battle.

“But he also pledged himself, when he received the championship, to imitate the donor’s conduct. Then why not redeem his pledge, or resign the gift?

“He says that he does not wish to enter the ring again. This is mere shuffling. He ought not to hold a situation for which he has no taste: he cannot, in justice, have the honour without the danger. If he will not fight, then let him resign the championship to one that will—to a man who will not want to make a sinecure of the title, and will always be ready to fight for a stake of £500.

“Permit me again to repeat that I am ready to make a match to fight Spring for £500 a-side, within a hundred miles of London, on a stage[4] similar to the one on which Cribb and Molineaux fought. Sparring exhibitions I cannot attend till I set-to for my friend Reynolds, on the 17th of March.

“I am, gentlemen, your very obedient servant, “JOHN LANGAN.

“_Castle Tavern, Holborn, February 26._”

This letter produced its desired effect, for next week Spring thus addressed the several sporting editors:—

“SIR,

“I can bear the bullying of this Langan no longer, but will, by the consent of my friends, meet him upon the terms demanded in his last letter. I will be at Cribb’s on Tuesday evening next, at eight o’clock, to stake £100, and settle the business at once.

“I am, sir, yours, etc., “T. W. SPRING.

“_84, High Street, Marylebone._”

Langan accepted Spring’s invitation, and honest Tom Cribb’s crib, on Tuesday, February 24, 1824, at a very early period of the evening was crowded, not a seat to be had for begging or praying, for love or money. The house was not one-third big enough, and hundreds of persons went away angry and disappointed. Tom Belcher first made his appearance, followed by Langan, in a military cloak; the rear was brought up by the president of the Daffy Club. The street door was immediately closed, to prevent an improper rush, and a sentinel was placed at the door of the stairs. The Irish Champion seated himself in the first floor, and drank Spring’s health in a glass of wine, the company, in return, drinking the health of Langan. Spring, on being informed Langan had arrived, sent word to the Irish Champion that he was ready. Cribb, who was very lame, hobbled up stairs to meet his old opponent, and to “argufy the topic” in a parliamentary style, across the table. Belcher then produced a draft of the articles which, he said, Langan was prepared to sign. These articles were as follows:—

“_Memorandum, of an Agreement entered into between Thomas Winter Spring and John Langan at Thomas Cribb’s, Panton Street, on the 2nd of March, 1824._

“It is hereby agreed between Thomas Winter Spring and John Langan to fight, on a twenty-four feet stage, on Tuesday, the 8th of June, 1824, for £500 a-side, to be a fair stand-up fight, half-minute time; umpires to be chosen by each party, and a referee to be chosen on the ground by the umpires. The fight to take place within one hundred miles of London, and the place to be named by Mr. Jackson. The men to be in the ring between twelve and one o’clock, unless prevented by magisterial interference. Fifty pounds of the money are now deposited in the hands of the stakeholder, Mr. ——; £50 more to be deposited, on the 17th of March, at Mr. John Randall’s, Hole-in-the-Wall, Chancery Lane; £200 to be deposited at Mr. Thomas Cribb’s, on the 1st of May; and the remainder of the £500 to be made good at Mr. Thomas Belcher’s, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, on the 1st of June; and in case of failure on either side, the money deposited to be forfeited.

“The stage to be boarded with deal planks, at least three inches thick, and to be six feet from the ground, without turf. The bottle-holders and seconds to retire to the corners of the ring when the men shall have set-to, and not to approach the combatants till one or both of them shall be down.

“The expenses of the stage to be equally borne by each of the men.”

To these conditions Spring took exceptions; first, expressing his desire that the present deposit should be £100 instead of £50; this objection, after a few remarks, he waived. He then objected to the day named for the fight to take place, proposing the 25th of May instead of the 8th of June; and, lastly, he insisted that the second £50 should be deposited on the 13th of March, instead of the 17th, upon the ground that the 17th had been appointed for Reynold’s benefit, and he did not wish to lend himself to this additional attraction to the public. A good deal of discussion followed, but, finally, there was mutual concession, Spring agreeing to fight on the 8th of June, and Langan agreeing to make his second deposit on the 13th instead of the 17th of March. All difficulties thus cleared away, there were one or two verbal alterations made in the articles; and a paragraph was added, by which it was agreed, “that when the whole of the money was made good, it should be deposited in the hands of Mr. Jackson.”

Spring, in alluding to the expense of erecting the stage, said he thought it but fair, as this was Langan’s fancy, that he should bear the whole expense. To which Langan replied, “See, now, Tom; say nothing about that, for if I win, and I think I will, I’ll bear the whole expense of the stage myself. (Loud cheers.) But that’s neither here nor there; I hope the best man will win; and though we are going to fight, it’s myself that would go a hundred miles to serve you, for I have no antipathy or ill-blood towards you whatever.”

The president of the Daffy Club was then appointed stakeholder. The articles having been signed and witnessed, and everything relative to the pugilistic tourney having been settled comfortably on both sides, Langan and his friends made their bows, and returned to finish the evening at Belcher’s (the Castle).

Spring and Langan, according to the articles, met on Saturday evening, the 13th of March, at Randall’s, and made £100 a-side good towards the completion of the stakes of 1,000 sovereigns. They met like good fellows, brave men, and personal friends. In the course of the evening Langan proposed the health of Spring. He also rebuked several of his partisans, who frequently shouted out, “Well done, Langan!” “Bravo, Jack!” etc. “I hate these sort of remarks,” said the Irish Champion; “they are calculated to make ill-blood and provoke animosity, which it is my most sincere wish to prevent, if possible. All I want is, that we may meet as friends, and have a comfortable, pleasant mill on the 8th of June!” Sixty to forty was offered by a gentleman from Yorkshire upon Spring. “I will bet £70 to £40,” said the latter. “I’ll take it, Tom,” replied Langan; and before they separated, Spring betted with Langan £580 to £168, that he should win the battle. The evening was spent with the utmost good humour by all parties.

Spring’s benefit at the Fives Court on Tuesday, June 1, 1824, not only produced a bumper, but the body of the Court was crowded, the gallery overloaded even to danger; the little room, “the swells’ retreat,” once secure from the vulgar eye and intrusion of commoners, was now full of all sorts, and Earls, Right Honourables, Honourables, and M.P.’s, were squeezed together, without complaint, quite satisfied with obtaining only now and then a glimpse of the stage. In fact, numbers of persons could not be admitted, and the doors were closed to prevent accidents from the pressure of the multitude. Spring addressed the populace in the street from one of the windows in the Fives Court.

In the evening a dinner was held at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, at which fifty-two gentlemen were present. The chair was taken by Mr. Rayner (well known for his excellent performances of Tyke, Giles, Fixture, etc.), and the deputy-chair ably filled by the President of the Daffy Club. When “time” was called, Spring, supported by his backer and Cribb, appeared and posted the money. Loud approbation was expressed when it was announced that £1,000 were deposited in the hands of the stakeholder. Langan was present for a short time. The dinner was excellent, and the wines pronounced of the first quality. Four to one was betted on Spring!

The second great match was fixed for Tuesday, June 8, 1824, and Warwick, in the first instance, was the place decided upon, but Chichester was the “latest intelligence.” Some hundreds were “thrown out” by the change. Nevertheless, the capital of Sussex was overflowing with company so soon as it was known to be the right scent. Spring arrived at the Swan Hotel in the course of Monday, in company with his backer, Mr. Sant; they were received with loud cheers. Colonel O’Neil, Langan, Tom Belcher, and company, arrived nearly at the same time at the Dolphin Hotel, and were equally well received.

The cause of the change was, Mr. Hewlings, of the Swan Inn, Chichester, having undertaken to give the men £200, and having intimated that there would be no interruption. The spot chosen for the trial of strength was admirably adapted for the purpose; it was a field about three miles from the city, one side of which was bordered by the Canal, and it was only approachable by means of a drawbridge, over which all must necessarily pass to the ring side, and at which a toll was imposed on all comers. The bridge was called Birdham Bridge. The moment the farmers in the neighbourhood were informed of the gratification which awaited them, they volunteered their wagons to form the outer ring, an offer which was at once accepted by Mr. Hewlings, who appears to have taken the whole management on himself, and in the course of Monday, the day prior to the fight, no less than fifty-three large wagons were arranged in a circle round the spot on which, in the course of the day, the stage was erected. This stage was six feet from the ground, and was planked with three-inch deal. Round it were fixed strong posts, to which three rows of stout rails were fastened; these and the posts were rounded, so as to diminish as much as possible any injury to the combatants. During Monday afternoon Chichester presented an extraordinary appearance, and was as crowded as one is accustomed to see it during the Goodwood meeting, and all day the windows were filled with anxious spectators on the look-out for a peep at the combatants.

In London, as soon as it was generally known that Chichester was the centre of attraction, there was a simultaneous move to secure places in the coaches going either to that city, or to Brighton or Portsmouth. Many persons, unable to obtain places, and equally unable to afford posters, had to betake themselves to their ten toes, so determined were they not to miss the treat. As the evening advanced, the curiosity of the Chichester folks was more or less gratified by the arrival of Cribb, Oliver, Jack Martin, Dick Curtis, Ben Burn, Randall, Painter, Jack Scroggins, and a long list of pugilists of note. Post-chaises and carriages and four poured rapidly into the town: every inn was soon crowded to an overflow, and soon every corner was filled. Spring and his friends arrived at the Swan Inn about half past seven o’clock, and were received with loud cheers. He was in excellent health and spirits, and seemed delighted at his cordial reception. Langan was not long after him, and took up his quarters at the Dolphin. He, like Spring, was warmly cheered. He was in high spirits, laughed heartily, and appeared to be in excellent condition. Some doubts having been expressed by the friends of Langan as to the good faith of Mr. Hewlings, who had promised the men £200 to fight near Chichester, that gentleman at once posted half the money in responsible hands, to be paid to the loser, and it was agreed that the winner should receive his £100 as soon as the contest was over. In the course of the evening a little money was invested at three to one on Spring.

On the morning of fighting the bustle was redoubled in Chichester, and the excitement appeared to extend to Bognor, Portsmouth, and other places in the neighbourhood. Both men rose in excellent spirits, and thoroughly up to the mark. Spring’s weight was about thirteen stone four pounds, while Langan was at least a stone under that amount, and by many it was considered he had drawn it too fine. About eleven o’clock a move commenced towards the ground, and on the arrival of the public at the before-named bridge, it was found that some of the milling gentry had planted themselves at the entrance, where they extorted sums varying from 2_s._ 6_d._ to 5_s._ from every one who passed, thus forestalling Mr. Hewlings, who had hired the field and erected the stage at his own expense, depending on the toll at the bridge for his reimbursement. Of course much indignation was excited by this conduct, but on the arrival of Mr. Jackson everything was set right, and a settlement made with Mr. Hewlings.

At length, everything being arranged, Mr. Jackson, who acted as Commander-in-Chief, directed that the men should be brought forward.

A few minutes before one o’clock, Spring, arm-in-arm with his backer and a baronet, made his way through the crowd towards the stage, and was received with loud huzzas, Cribb and Painter close behind him. Spring threw up his hat, which alighted upon the stage, then ascended the ladder and jumped over the rails.

While Spring was taking off his boots, Cribb and Ned Painter put on knee-caps, made of chamois leather and stuffed with wool. It having been circulated in Ireland that Painter used his knee against Langan when he was on the ground, in the fight at Worcester, a sergeant-major in a marching regiment, quartered at Norwich, and occasionally visiting the house of Painter, observed, “By J——s, Mr. Painter, I’ll take care you do not hurt Langan this time with your knees: I’ll have a couple of knee-caps made for you both, and if you mean to give Jack fair play, I insist that you wear them during the battle.” The sergeant had them made according to his own order, and as Painter and Cribb always were lovers of fair play, both these pugilists, with the utmost good humour, placed the caps, tied with a narrow blue ribbon, round their knees.

Langan shortly followed, under the patronage of Colonel O’Neil. Belcher, Harmer, and O’Neil (not “Ned,” of Streatham), his bottle-holder, were in attendance. The Irish champion ascended the stage, and in a modest manner dropped his hat within the rails. He was prepared for action; but the Champion not being ready, he walked up and down the boards with the utmost composure.

A black silk handkerchief was placed loosely round Langan’s neck, which, we understand, was tied by the delicate hands of the lady of a gallant Irish Colonel O’B——, before he left the inn, at which the lady stopped in her journey to the Isle of Wight. Mrs. O’B—— offered him a green handkerchief, as a token of his country; but Langan politely refused, saying, “I am not of importance enough to make it a national affair: I do not wish it, indeed, madam; it is merely to decide which is the best man; therefore, if you please, I prefer a black one, having fought under that colour.” Mrs. O’B——, on tying it round his neck, romantically exclaimed, “You are Irish: colour is immaterial to a brave man: glory is your only object. Go, then, and conquer!” Langan returned thanks very politely for the attention paid to him, and the good wishes of the lady. Everything being ready, the colours, dark blue with bird’s eye for Spring, black for Langan, were tied to the stage, and Mr. Jackson arranged the spectators round the ring in an orderly and comfortable manner. Betting two to one, and five to two, at the beginning of

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.—Spring never looked so big, nor so well, in any of his previous contests; he appeared perfectly at his ease: coolness sat upon his brow, and his deportment altogether was a fine personification of confidence; indeed, it was observed by a noble lord, “There is something about the person of the Champion, if not truly noble, yet manly and elegant.” Langan also looked well; his face exhibited a tinge of the sun, and his frame was robust and hardy; his loins appeared smaller than in his former contest. His countenance was as pleasant as his opponent’s, and his eyes sparkled with fire and animation. Previous to setting-to, Langan went up to Spring, opening his drawers, and observed, “See, Tom, I have no belt about me,” the Champion immediately followed his example, and said (also opening his drawers), “Nor I neither, Jack!” This circumstance elicited great applause from all parts of the ring. “Well done, Langan; bravo, Spring!” Spring now shook his brave opponent by the hand. Cribb laid hold of Tom Belcher’s fist, and Ned Painter shook the bunch of fives of big Paddy O’Neil (shortly afterwards beaten by “my nevvy,” Jem Burn.[5]) The men placed themselves in attitude. The glorious moment had arrived, and the seconds, in compliance with the articles, retired to the corners of the stage. This time Langan stood up within the reach of his adversary, and it was pleasing to witness the activity displayed by the combatants moving over the stage to obtain the first hit. A stand still, steadfastly looking at the eyes of each other; at length Langan made an offer, which Spring stopped well. The Champion made a hit, which told slightly on Langan’s nob; the latter fought his way into a close, in which Spring endeavoured to fib his antagonist. Here the struggle began for the throw—it was desperate; the art of wrestling was not resorted to by either of the boxers, and main strength was the trial. Langan broke from the arms of Spring, and a stand still was the result. Langan observed, “First blood, Tom;” which slightly appeared at the corner of Spring’s mouth. The Irish Champion made a good stop, but was blowing a little. Spring planted another facer, when Langan fought his way into a close: a desperate struggle ensued: fibbing was again attempted, when Langan went down on his knees. Spring patted the Irish Champion on the back with the utmost good humour, as much as to say, “You are a brave fellow,” (A thundering report of approbation, and “Well done, Spring!”) Four minutes and a few seconds. The referee, on being asked who drew the first blood, replied, “He did not see any on Spring; but he saw a little on the left cheek of Langan, just under his eye.”

2.—Langan made play; but Spring, with the nimbleness of a harlequin showed the utility of a quick step. The Irish Champion made a rush, when they were again entangled for a short time, until Langan broke away. A pause: breath wanted: and consideration necessary. Langan gave Spring a facer with his right hand, and tried to repeat the dose; another quick movement prevented it, Spring smiling. A little bit of in-fighting: a desperate struggle for the throw: downright strength, when Spring went down, Langan falling heavily upon him. (“Bravo, Langan!”)

3.—The attitudes of the combatants were interesting, and both extremely cautious. Spring got away from one intended for his nob. The science displayed on both sides was so excellent in stopping, that in the ecstasy of the moment the Commander-in-Chief[6] loudly exclaimed, “Beautiful.” Another skilful stop by Spring; and one by Langan, “Well done: good on both sides,” observed Mr. Jackson. Langan planted a hit. A pause. (“Fight, Langan,” from Belcher, “you have all the best of it.”) Spring drove Langan to the corner, but the hero of the black fogle got out of danger in style. He made also an excellent stop while on the retreat: Langan made himself up to do mischief, and Spring received loud applause for stopping a tremendous hit. The Champion also bobbed his nob aside, in the Dutch Sam style, from what might have been a floorer. The Champion again broke ground, and bobbed cleverly away from the coming blow. Spring now took the lead famously. He planted a facer without any return; repeated the dose, and administered a third pill. Langan again got out of the corner, by fighting up like a trump. A short stand still. Heavy counter hits. A pause: Spring made another facer; a stand still. The Champion stopped well, and also drove Langan into the corner, but the hero of the black wipe would not be detained; he fought his way out manfully, and, in closing, though the struggle was terrible, Spring obtained the throw. (Loud applause.) This round occupied nearly seven minutes. The left hand of Spring was already going, if not gone.

4.—The “good bit of stuff from ould Ireland” endeavoured to take the lead, and had the best of this round; he fought first. He planted one or two hits, and not light ones either, and would have kept it up, but Spring said “it wouldn’t do,” and stopped him. In fact, this was a well-contested round on both sides; and Langan, after a terrible try for it, got Spring down. (Applause.)

5.—The left ear of Langan was much swelled; he was also piping. The superior science of String enabled him to get away from a number of heavy blows. Langan followed his opponent, trying to do something. Two counter-hits, which reminded both the men they were milling; the claret ran from Spring’s nose. Spring planted a facer; and after a determined struggle on both sides, as Langan was going down, the Champion cleverly caught him a hard blow on the nose. (“That’s the way, Spring; you’ll soon win it.”)

6.—A stand-still for a short time—Spring always taking his time to do his work. Counter-hits that were a little too much for the combatants. Langan began to shift: indeed, Spring had drawn his claret liberally. Both down, Spring uppermost.

7.—This was a bustling round. Langan stopped well. Counter-hits, and good ones. The stopping on both sides was excellent, and obtained loud applause, “Be ready, my boy,” said Belcher, “fight first; he can’t hurt you!”—“Walker,” replied Tom Cribb; “gammon him to that if you can.” Langan followed the advice of his able second, put a tremendous hit under Spring’s left ogle, and tried to repeat it, but it was “no go.” A pause. Spring planted a facer; Langan got away from another intended for him. The left hand of Spring told well on his opponent’s body: he also planted three facers without any return. Counter-hits, of no consequence to any but the receivers; the hero of the black fogle touched Spring’s body with his left hand. A stand still. “Keep up your head, Langan.” Spring followed his opponent, administering pepper, and Langan’s face clareted. Langan endeavoured to put in a heavy blow, but the harlequin step of Spring prevented it. Langan napped two or three hits in succession; in fact, he was quite groggy; nevertheless he fought like a man, was mischievous, and gave Spring a nobber. In closing, Spring could not throw him, when they separated; in closing again, after another struggle, Langan received a topper as he was staggering and going down.—(Great applause. It won’t last long—five to two, and three to one, Spring will win it in a few rounds the backers of the Champion were smiling, and said, “It is all right.”)

8.—Belcher got his man up very heavily, but on his being placed at the scratch, he showed fight and got away from a hit. However, Spring had decidedly the best of the round, and Langan was thrown. Twenty-six minutes.

9.—This was also a short round, but against the Irish Champion. Spring planted two or three nobbers, and also got his opponent down.

10.—It was evident to every one that Langan up to this time had had the worst of it, and the general opinion was, that he must lose the battle. Spring planted two successive blows, without any return. Langan was getting better, and made an exchange of blows with some effect. Belcher again cried out, “Fight, Jack.” In struggling for the throw, Paddy O’Neil sung out, “Give him a back fall, Jack, but don’t hurt him;” and, sure enough, Mr. Spring did receive a back fall.

11.—Langan was now fast recovering his second wind and went to work. An exchange of blows; a pause. Langan planted a slight body hit with his left hand. Counter-hits. Langan down, Spring on him.

12.—In the struggle for the throw, Spring was undermost. (“Bravo, Langan!”) The head of the Champion had an ugly knock against the lower rail of the stage.

13.—Spring proved himself a most difficult boxer to get at; however, Langan got in a body blow. In closing, both down, Spring uppermost.

14.—Spring getting weak, Langan improving: so said the most experienced judge of boxing belonging to the P. C. Indeed, it is accounted for without difficulty; as a superior fighter Spring ought not to have wrestled so much with his opponent. The strongest man in the world must have felt weakness had he been engaged in such violent pulling, hauling, grappling, and catching hold of each other’s hands. This round was little more than a struggle for the throw; Langan undermost.

15.—It was now known to all the ring that the left hand of Spring was gone; indeed; it was swelled and puffed like a blister. Langan planted a left-handed blow, but Spring stopped his right. In closing, the struggle was great, and, as Langan was going down, Spring hit his nob. (“Foul, foul!” It was unintentional on the part of Spring; he was in the act of hitting, and therefore, it could not be decided wrong.)[7]

16.—Under all circumstances, Langan was a troublesome customer. The remarks made by some persons were, that he did not fight well, though they were compelled to allow that he was an extraordinary game man. The counter-hits in this round were again well placed; but it was regretted, by several sporting men, to see such numerous struggles. Yet, to their credit be it spoken, neither of the men wished to go down unhandsomely, which accounts for so much wrestling. Both went down together; Langan patted the back of Spring with the utmost good humour, both smiling.

17.—The fine science of Spring was again exhibited in skilfully stopping his opponent; but, in closing, he received a dangerous cross-buttock, which shook him terribly, and his legs rebounded from the ground. (A cheering burst of applause for Langan.)

18.—The manner with which Langan had got round did not look very promising for the backers of Spring. The Irish Champion went resolutely in, and planted two hits. In closing, Spring tried the fibbing system, when Langan broke away. Both combatants in turn retreated from the blows of each other. Both down.

19.—The Champion showed weakness: it would have been singular if he had not. He bobbed his head aside from a tremendous right-handed blow of Langan’s, which might have settled the account in favour of the hero of the black fogle; however, he closed the round by throwing Langan cleverly.

20.—Spring stopped several blows, and the Irish Champion was thrown violently on his head; Spring also fell heavily on him. Forty-five minutes had elapsed. (“That fall is a settler: he can’t fight above another round or two.”)

21.—Spring nobbed his opponent. A severe struggle took place at the corner of the stage, and some fears were expressed that the men might fall through the rails upon the ground. Langan received another heavy fall.

22.—Langan, according to the advice of Belcher, fought first, but his efforts were stopped, and he again went down, Spring uppermost. During the time the Champion was sitting on the knee of his second, he nodded, and gave a smile to his friends, intimating “It was all right.”

23.—This was a short round, and Spring fibbed Langan down severely, to all appearance, yet, on being picked up and placed on his second’s knee, when asked to have some brandy and water by Belcher, who told Harmer, who was below the stage, to hand it up, Langan said, “Stop a bit, Harry; only keep it cool.” The president of the Daffy Club, who was standing close by at the time, observed, “What a strange fellow!”

24.—After three heavy falls in succession, and severe fibbing, Langan came to the scratch as if nothing serious had happened; he contrived to put in a body blow, but was thrown.

25.—Spring, although he had got the lead by his superior science and length, was determined not to give a chance away, and was as cautious as when he first commenced the battle. He retreated from Langan’s blows, planted some returns with success, and ultimately Langan was down.

26.—Langan made play, but Spring was too wary. Both down, Spring uppermost.

27.—The Champion was evidently distressed, and his right hand also getting bad. Some exchanges took place; but, in a trifling struggle at the corner of the stage, it appeared to Spring’s umpire that Langan went down without a blow, when he observed to Belcher, “Tell your man not to go down without a blow, or I shall notice it.” “I assure you, gentlemen,” replied Tom, “blows had passed in the round, and it could not be termed going down without a blow, according to the rules of fighting.” Blows certainly had passed between the combatants.

28.—Langan walked up to the umpire, and said, “Sir, I did not go down.” Time had been called, when Cribb sung out, “Why don’t you come to the scratch? what manœuvres are you about, Mr. Belcher?” “I want nothing but fair play,” replied Tom; “lick us fairly, and I shall be satisfied.” Langan again made play, but was thrown.

29.—Spring planted a heavy facer. (“That’s a little one for us, I believe,” said Cribb; “our hands are gone, are they?” Laughter.) Langan was thrown heavily.

30.—It was quite clear that Langan could not get the lead, yet he was not to be viewed with indifference; he was still dangerous, as a throw might win the battle. Both down, Spring undermost.

31.—This round, more particularly at this stage of the fight, exalted the character of Langan as one of the gamest of men. Langan planted a body blow, but napped three facers in succession. A pause. Langan received a heavy body blow, seemed exhausted, and fell on his latter end.

32.—This round it was thought would have proved the quietus of Langan. He was thrown heavily, and his head touched the lower rail. (“That’s a finisher!” “He’ll not come again,” were the remarks of the spectators.)

33.—Spring’s conduct towards Langan was generous and manly, and deservedly applauded. Langan rushed in and made a blow at his opponent, which Spring parried, then, laying hold of Langan, let him down without punishment.

34.—Langan’s determination not only astonished the amateurs, but a little alarmed the backers of Spring. Without an accident it was booked almost to a certainty that Spring must win; still an accident might happen. Langan could not persuade himself that anything alive could master him. His backers were aware of his opinion, and therefore would not oppose his resolution. The Irish Champion had again the worst of it, and went down very much distressed. One hour and seven minutes had elapsed, therefore all the bets that Spring proved the conqueror in an hour were lost.

35.—This was a milling round. Langan would not go away, although hit staggering: he went down as if he would not have been able to come again. (Four to one on Spring.)

36.—This was ditto, with repeated, if not increased, punishment; yet Langan returned, and Spring, with a caution that all his backers must give him credit for, got away when anything like a heavy blow was levelled at him. Langan fell exhausted. (“Take the brave fellow away. Where are his backers?” “Very good, indeed,” replied Belcher; “you are not hurt yet, Jack; and Spring’s hands are too far gone to hurt you now.” “I will not give in,” said Langan; “I shall win it.”)

37.—Langan fought this round better than any of the spectators could anticipate. He planted a couple of hits; it is true they were not effective, but it showed the fight was not out of him. The Irish Champion fought under the black flag, “death or victory,” and went down, out-fought at all points.

38.—Belcher brought his man to the scratch, nay, almost carried him,[8] when, singular to relate, gamecock like, all his energies appeared to return, and he commenced milling like a hero. Spring planted four blows without any return, and Langan went down.

39.—Langan was again down.

40.—The hero of the black fogle showed fight till he went down quite exhausted.

41.—A short round, but it was surprising to witness the strength exhibited by Langan in the struggle for the throw. Both down, when Spring patted him on the back.

42.—Langan was undermost in this round, but Spring really had his work to do to place his opponent in that situation.

43.—Langan again undermost, and Spring fell heavily upon him.

44.—Spring planted a facer, but met with a return. In struggling for the throw, Langan took hold of the drawers of Spring, when Cribb and Painter called out “Let go his drawers.” Langan immediately relinquished his hold. The Irish Champion was thrown.

45.—Langan hit Spring on the side of his head, and fought well in an exchange of blows. Spring, however, obtained the throw.

46.—It was astonishing, after getting the worst of it in the previous rounds, to witness the resolute manner in which Langan contested this round. He was still dangerous in the exchanges, and, in struggling, both fell upon the stage. Langan undermost.

47.—Langan, on being placed at the scratch, was ready for the attack. In a short time, after struggling, both went down. (The John Bull fighter roared out—“I’m sorry for you, Tom Belcher; you will certainly be ‘lagged’ if you don’t take your man away.” “Well done, Josh,” replied Belcher, “that comes well from you; but we shall win it; Spring can’t hurt a mouse now.”) Langan took a little brandy and water.

48.—Spring exhibited weakness, but threw Langan.

49.—Langan still made a fight of it, to the surprise of all. In an exchange of blows, however exhausted the brave boy from Paddy’s land appeared to be, Spring used his harlequin step to prevent accidents. In struggling for the throw, both down.

50.—Langan again showed himself ready at the scratch. “My dear boy,” said Belcher, “it’s all your own if you will but fight first.” Langan put in a body blow, and also countered with his opponent, but had the worst of it, and went down.

51.—Seeing is believing; but to the reader who has perused the whole of the above rounds, it must almost appear like romance to state, that Langan held Spring for a short time against the rails to get the throw, till they both went down, and Spring fell on him.

52.—Spring stopped a blow, and also got away from another; ultimately Langan was hit down.

53.—Langan went to work and hit Spring on the nose; but the Champion returned the favour, with interest, by nobbing his brave adversary down. (“Is there anything the matter with that hand, I should like to know? Lord! how Spring did hit him in the middle of the head!” exclaimed Cribb.)

54.—“’Pon my soul, it’s no lie!” Langan threw Spring cleverly. Great applause followed this momentary turn. (“He’s an extraordinary fellow,” said Mr. Jackson; “he is really a very good man.”)

55.—Spring again had all the best of this round; but Langan kept fighting till he went down.

56.—This round, it was thought, had settled the business. Langan exchanged several blows, but, in closing, Spring hit up terrifically on the face of his opponent, who went down like a log of wood.

57.—Langan commenced milling, and planted a blow on the side of Spring’s head! “Do that again,” said Belcher. Langan endeavoured to follow the directions of his master, but the Champion got away. Spring now hit him staggering, repeated the dose, and Langan went down.

58.—This was a good round, considering the protracted period of the battle. Langan returned some blows till he went down.—(“Take him away,”—“he has no chance.”)

59.—Langan appeared so exhausted that every round was expected to be the last. He went down from a slight hit, little more than a push.

60.—“Wonders will never cease!” said a cove who had lost a trifle that Langan was licked in forty minutes—“why he has got Spring down again; it’s not so safe to the Champion as his friends may think.”

61.—Langan was now as groggy as a sailor three sheets in the wind, and a slight blow sent him down. “I never saw such a fellow,” said Jack Randall; “he’ll fight for a week! He don’t know when to leave off.”

62.—The distress exhibited by Langan was so great that every time he went down it was thought he could not again toe the scratch. If the spectators did not think Langan dangerous, Spring got away from all his hits, to prevent anything being the matter. Langan was once more sent down.

63.—Langan, still determined to have a shy for the £500, made a hit at Spring, but was shoved, rather than hit, down.

64.—For the last fifteen minutes it was next to an impossibility Spring could lose, yet, contrary to all calculations on the subject, Langan still contested the fight. The hands of Spring were in such an inefficient, not to say painful, state, that he could not hit. Here was the danger, as it was possible that he might be worn out, but his caution and generalship did everything for him. Langan was so distressed that a slight touch on his arm sent him down. A good blow must have put an end to the fight, but Spring could not hit effectively.

65.—Langan, when at the scratch, not only showed fight, but hit Spring on the head; the latter, however, had the best of the round, though Langan got the throw, Spring undermost. (“Where’s the brandy?” said Belcher. “Here it is,” replied Tom Cribb; “a brave fellow shall not want for anything in my possession.” “Bravo!” cried Belcher; “that’s friendly, and I won’t forget it.”)

66.—The chance was decidedly against the Irish Champion; nevertheless, he attempted to be troublesome to his opponent. Spring put in a nobber, and also threw him.

67.—Exchange of blows. A pause. Langan on the totter, but he planted two slight hits on the Champion’s face. Spring followed him up, and gave Langan two blows, one in the body and one in the head, which dropped the hero of the black fogle.

68.—The bravery of Langan was equal to anything ever witnessed in the prize ring. The hands of Spring were in such a swollen state that he could scarcely close them, and most of his blows appeared to be open-handed. Langan was hit down. (“Take him away!” “Do you hear what they say, Jack?” said Belcher. “Yes,” replied Langan: “I will not be taken away; I can win it yet.”)

69.—In struggling for the throw, Langan’s head fell against the rails. Both down.

70.—Langan again napped on the nobbing system, and was sent down. One hour and forty-two minutes had elapsed. (Loud cries of “Take him away!”)

71.—The backers of Spring were anxious to have it over; and the spectators in general cried out, on the score of humanity, that Langan ought not to be suffered to fight any more. Colonel O’Neil, the friend and backer of the Irish Champion, assured the umpire that he did not want for humanity; and he was well satisfied in his own mind that, from the tumefied state of Spring’s hands, no danger could arise. Langan was fighting for £200 of his own money, therefore he had no right to interfere; he had, previous to the fight, left it in the hands of his skilful second, Belcher, who, he was certain, would not suffer the fight to last longer than was safe to all parties. Langan, after a short round, was sent down.

72.—Langan was brought to the scratch by Belcher, who said, “Fight, my dear boy; Spring can’t hurt you.” Langan, with undaunted resolution, plunged in to hit his opponent; but, after receiving more punishment, was sent down. (Repeated cries of “Take him away!”)

73.—It was now evident to all persons that Langan, while he retained the slightest knowledge of what he was about, would not give in. Spring fibbed Langan as severely as he was able, to put an end to the fight, till he went down. (Here Jack Randall came close to the stage, and said, “Tom Belcher, take him away; he cannot win it now.” “He says he will not, Jack, and that he can fight longer,” replied Tom Belcher.)

74.—This round was a fine picture of resolution under the most distressing circumstances. Langan, without the slightest shadow of a chance, seemed angry that his limbs would not do their duty; he came again to the scratch, and, with true courage, fought till he was sent down. While sitting on the knee of his second, Cribb thus addressed him: “You are a brave man, Langan!” “A better was never seen in the prize ring,” rejoined Painter; “but you can’t win, Langan; it is no use for you to fight, and it may prove dangerous.” “I _will_ fight,” said Langan; “no one shall take me away.”

75.—When time was called, Langan was brought to the scratch, and placed himself in attitude. He attempted to hit, when Spring caught hold of him and again fibbed him. (“Give no chance away now,” said Cribb; “you must finish the battle.”) Langan went down quite stupid. (“Take him away!” from all parts of the ring.)

76 and last.—Strange to relate, Langan again showed at the scratch; it might be asserted that he fought from instinct. It did not require much punishment, at this period, to send the brave Langan off his legs; and, to the credit of Spring be it recorded, he did his duty towards his backers as a fighting man, and acted so humanely towards an opponent, that, to the end of life, Langan had the highest respect for him as a man. Langan put up his arms in attitude, but they were soon rendered useless, Spring driving him down without giving punishment. When time was called, Langan was insensible to the call, and thus, after a contest of one hour and forty-nine minutes, the hat was thrown up, and Spring was declared the conqueror, amidst the loudest shouts of approbation. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sant immediately ascended the stage. Mr. Sant congratulated Spring on his victory, but concluded, “If you ever fight again, I will never speak to you any more, Tom; I never saw such bad hands in any battle.” Spring replied, “Sir, I never will.” He then left the knee of his second, and went up to Langan, and laid hold of his hand. The Irish Champion had not yet recovered, but on opening his eyes, he asked in a faint tone, “Is the battle over?” “Yes,” replied Belcher. “Oh dear!” articulated Langan. Spring immediately shook his hand again, and said, “Jack, you and I must be friends to the end of our lives; and anything that is within my power, I will do to serve you. When I see you in town I will give you £10.”

REMARKS.—This contest was one of the fairest battles ever witnessed. The principals had twenty-four square feet for their exertions, without the slightest interruption throughout the mill. The seconds and bottle-holders did their duty like men; they remained as fixtures during the whole of the fight, except when the rounds were at an end, and their assistance became necessary.[9] The umpires were gentlemen—an Englishman for Spring, and an Irishman for Langan—and they both did their duty. They watched every movement of the men, that nothing like foul play should be attempted on either side, and had the satisfaction of feeling there was no difference of opinion between them in any instance whatever, and therefore no necessity to call on the referee. Langan was beaten against his will; and the conduct of Belcher deserves the highest praise as a second: he stuck to his man; and we must here observe that his humanity ought not to be called in question. He was anxious that no reports should reach Ireland, or be scattered over England, that he had given in for his man. Langan, previous to the battle, requested, nay, insisted, that neither his bottle-holder nor second should take upon themselves that decision, which, he declared, only rested in his own bosom. They complied with it. After thirty minutes had elapsed, it appeared to be the general opinion of the ring, by the advantages Spring had gained, that the battle would be decided in forty minutes; but at that period Langan recovered, and Spring became weaker, and the best judges declared they did not know what to make of it. The strength of Langan, certainly for several rounds, did not make it decidedly safe for Spring. The superior science of Spring won him the battle; and this confirmed a celebrated tactician in the memorable observation that he “always viewed Tom as an artificial fighter—he meant that he had no ‘natural’ hits belonging to him; and hence always placed him in the highest place on the boxing list.” So Tom Spring overcame the defects of nature, and, without what are vulgarly called great “natural” capabilities for fighting, has become the Champion of England. He is the greatest master of the art of self-defence, and, if he could not hit hard himself, almost prevented others from hitting him at all. His stopping in this battle was admirable, and he continually got out of danger by the goodness of his legs. Always cool and collected, he proved himself one of the safest men in the P.R. to back, because he could not be gammoned out of his own mode of milling. Before the company quitted the ground £50 were collected for Langan, which was afterwards increased three-fold. Spring was much bruised by his falls on the stage, and complained of them as his principal inconvenience. He now announced, a second time, his retirement from the ring.

Spring beat all the men he ever fought with in the prize ring; and in the whole of his contests lost but one battle. It is a curious coincidence, that on Whit-Tuesday, 1823, he defeated the formidable Neat, near Andover, and on Whit-Tuesday, 1824, he overcame the brave Langan. Spring, therefore, won three great battles in one twelvemonth, and one thousand pounds into the bargain; for instance—

With Neat £200 With Langan 300 Ditto 500 —————— £1,000

On Spring’s return to the Swan Hotel, Chichester, he was received by the shouts of the populace all along the road; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs at the windows as he passed along. Langan, so soon as he had recovered a little from the effects of the battle, left the stage amidst loudly expressed approbation: “You are an extraordinary fellow, Langan,” “A brave man,” etc. The Irish Champion, accompanied by Belcher and his backer, also received great applause on his return to the Dolphin, in Chichester. Spring was immediately put to bed, and bled, and a warm bath prepared for him. His hands were in a bad state, and his face exhibited more punishment than appeared upon the stage, yet he was cheerful, and quite collected. The same kind attention was paid to Langan; and on being asked how he felt himself? he replied, “Very well; I have lost the battle, but it owing to my want of condition; I am not quite twelve stone; I have been harassed all over the country; I have travelled two hundred and sixty miles within the last two days; I was feverish, and on the road instead of my bed on Saturday night; I wanted rest.” After making his man comfortable, Belcher, accompanied by his bottle-holder, and also Colonel O’Neil, in the true spirit of chivalry, all rivalry now being at an end, paid a visit to the bedside of Spring. Here all was friendly, as it should be, and all parties were only anxious for the recovery of both the pugilists. “How is Langan?” said Spring to Belcher. “He is doing well,” replied Tom. “I am glad of it,” said Spring. “We have had a fair fight, we have been licked, and I am satisfied,” observed Belcher. All parties shook hands over the bed of the conqueror. On leaving Spring, Mr. Sant, followed by Tom Cribb and Ned Painter, immediately returned with Colonel O’Neil to the bedside of Langan. Mr. Sant observed, “Well Langan, how do you do—do you know me? You can’t see me.” “Yes, sir,” replied the fallen hero. “I am Spring’s backer,” said Mr. Sant, “but, nevertheless, your friend.” “I am obliged to you, sir,” answered Langan; “if it was not for such gentlemen as you in the sporting world, we should have no fights. Indeed, Spring is a smart, clever fellow, and I wish him well.” “That is liberal,” said Painter; “I am happy to hear one brave man speak well of another.” The visitors now retired, and left Langan to repose.

Spring left his bed early in the evening; and his first visit he paid to Langan, at the Dolphin; they met like brave men, and on taking his departure he shook Langan by the hand, leaving ten pounds in it.

The Champion left Chichester at eight o’clock on Wednesday morning, in an open barouche, accompanied by Mr. Sant. He was cheered out of the town by the populace; and, on his entrance into the metropolis, he was also greeted with loud marks of approbation.

We here close the unstained and untarnished career of Tom Spring, as a pugilist; if we wished to point a moral to his brother professors, a better proof that “honesty is the best policy,” than the esteem which Spring earned and held throughout his long career, could not be desired. This respect has exhibited itself in several public testimonials, to say nothing of innumerable private marks of respect. Spring, who had been keeping a house, the Booth Hall, in the city of Hereford, on the retirement of Tom Belcher became landlord of the Castle, in Holborn; and, as the present seems the most fitting opportunity for a brief sketch of this headquarters of sporting, we shall make no apology for here introducing a brief history of this once noted sporting resort.

The Castle Tavern was first opened as a sporting house about seventy years ago, by the well-known Bob Gregson; and designated, at that period, “Bob’s Chop House.” (See GREGSON, _ante_.)

The Castle Tavern was viewed as a “finger-post” by his countrymen, as the “Lancashire House;” and considered by them a most eligible situation to give their Champion a call on their visits to the metropolis. It is rather singular that Bob Gregson rose, in the estimation of the sporting world, from defeat; he fought only four battles in the P.R., and lost them all. Indeed, Bob’s character as a boxer reminds us of the simile used in the House of Commons, by Charles James Fox, who observed of the fighting Austrian General, Clairfait, who had been engaged in one-and-twenty battles in the cause of his country, that he might be compared to a drum, for he was never heard of but when he was beaten. Just so with Gregson. Nevertheless, the Castle Tavern rose rapidly into note, soon after Bob showed himself the landlord of it.

In mine host’s parlour, or little snuggery, behind the bar—considered a sort of _sanctum sanctorum_, a house of lords to the fancy, where commoners never attempted to intrude upon the company—Gregson carried on a roaring trade. “Heavy wet,” or anything in the shape of it, except at meal-times, was entirely excluded from this “Repository of Choice Spirits,” where Champagne of the best quality was tossed off like ale, Madeira, Claret, Hock, and other choice wines, handed about, while Port and Sherry were the common drink of the snuggery. It might be invidious, if not improper, to mention the names of the visitors who spent an hour or two, on different occasions, in this little spot, famed for sporting, mirth, harmony, and good fellowship; let it suffice, and with truth, to observe, that persons of some consequence in the state were to be seen in it, independent of officers, noblemen, actors, artists, and other men of ability, connected with the “upper ten thousand.” John Emery, distinguished as a comedian on the boards of Covent Garden, and a man of immense talent in every point of view, spent many of his leisure hours in “the snuggery.” George Kent, the ring reporter, was also eminent here for keeping the game alive. He was of a gay disposition, fond of life in any shape; when perfectly sober one of the most peaceable men in the kingdom, and an excellent companion, but, when he got a little liquor in his noddle, a word and a blow were too often his failings, and which came first doubtful. The late Captain D——, connected with one of the most noble families in the kingdom, and one of the highest fanciers in the sporting world, in consequence of being six feet four inches and a half in height, was likewise a great frequenter of the “Repository of Choice Spirits.” Numerous others might be noted, but these three will be sufficient as a sample of the company to be met with in Bob Gregson’s snuggery—where there was wit at will, the parties sought out each other to please and be pleased, “Dull Care” could never obtain a seat, and fun to be had at all times. Sporting was the general theme, but not to the exclusion of the topics of the day. Heavy matches were made here; and certainly the period alluded to may be marked as the “Corinthian age of the Fancy.”

The sun, for a time, shone brilliantly over this Temple of the Fancy; but poor Bob, like too many of his class, did not make hay while it was in his power. The scene changed, the clouds of misfortune overwhelmed him, and, in 1818, the Lancashire hero was compelled to take a voyage on board his Majesty’s “Fleet,” not only for the recovery of his health, but to obtain a certificate against future attacks of the enemy. Thus ended the reign of Bob Gregson, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn.

For a few months a sort of stoppage occurred at the Castle; the sporting world was missing, and comparative silence reigned throughout the house, when the sprightly, stylish, well-conducted Tom Belcher, in the summer of 1814 (under the auspices of his sincere friend, and almost father, Mr. John Shelton), appeared in the character of landlord. The house had undergone repairs; the rooms were retouched by the painter; elegance and cleanliness, backed by civility, became the order of the day, and a prime stock of liquors and wines was laid in. Tom’s opening dinner was completely successful, and the Fancy immediately rallied round a hero who had nobly contended for victory in thirteen prize battles. Tom was considered the most accomplished boxer and sparrer of the day; and the remembrance, likewise, that he was the brother of the renowned Jem Belcher, were points in themselves of great attraction in the sporting world. The Castle again became one of the most favourite resorts of the Fancy in general.

During the time Tom Belcher was the landlord of the Castle Tavern the famous Daffy Club was started by Mr. James Soares.

During the principal time of Tom’s residence at the Castle, the members of the sporting world were in “high feather.” Patrons “came out” to give it support. No man knew better how to get up a purse, make a match, or back a man, than Tom Belcher. He was always smart, and exemplarily well dressed, whenever he made his appearance in the ring, upon a race-course, or indeed in any situation before the public. Belcher was a keen observer of society: he measured his way through life, and every step he took turned to good account. He had lots of sporting dinners, numerous gay little suppers, and plenty of matches on the board to excite the attention of the fancy. “The Daffy Club” became very popular in the sporting world, and for a long time was crowded to excess; indeed,

“Fortune seem’d buckled to his back!”

Everything went right; Tom stuck to the Castle—he was always to be found at his post; and the Castle in turn fortified him at all points; and although Tom was prompt at times to lay a heavy bet, prudence was generally at his elbow to prevent him from getting out of his depth. Tom was far from a gambler; the hazard table had no charms for him, and he scarcely ever sported a shilling, except upon a horse-race or a fight. His principal style of betting was, to use his own words, “Blow my dicky, I’ll bet a guinea and a goose!” and if he did not like to make a bet, he would observe, “I’ll leave it all to the cook!”

Tom Belcher, after fourteen years’ residence at the Castle Tavern, was enabled, by his civil conduct, attention to business, and good luck, to retire from the busy world. If Tom did not retire in a “shower of gold,” he, nevertheless, put by a good quantity of the “sweeteners of life,” to render his retreat to the country safe and pleasant.

At this juncture Tom Spring, who had not only been losing his time amongst his countrymen at the Booth Hall, in the city of Hereford, but, what was worse, his hard-earned money, was determined, when the opportunity offered, to have another “shy” in London: therefore, after several sets-to had taken place between the “two Toms,” the match was made, the money posted, and Tom Spring appeared in the character of “mine host,” at the Castle Tavern, Holborn.

The subject of this memoir did not enter upon his new capacity without possessing the highest claims to the notice of the patrons of boxing, from his victorious career; and no man, from his general conduct and deportment, was considered by the sporting world so eligible in every point of view to succeed Tom Belcher.

With the close of Spring’s life the glories of the Castle were extinguished; but ere we chronicle this event we will pause to notice the testimonials with which his many admiring friends at various times presented him.

The first was a vase in silver, entitled “The Hereford Cup,” of the weight of fifty ounces. The inscription on this local mark of esteem from the inhabitants of his native place sufficiently explains the motive of its donors. Its presentation and inscription will be found at page 23.

In the following year (1824), after his first battle with Langan, some Manchester sporting men, out of respect to his honour, integrity, and noble maintenance of the English championship against all comers, decided upon their testimonial in the form of a silver vase, of elegant proportions and massive weight. This, called “The Manchester Cup,” also decorated Tom’s buffet on public and festive occasions. It was thus inscribed:—

“This Cup was presented to THOMAS WINTER SPRING By a Party of his Friends in Manchester, Not only for the Upright and Manly Conduct uniformly displayed by him in the Prize Ring, But also as a Man, And as a Sincere Token of the Esteem In which they hold his Private Character. Manchester, 12th of April, 1824.”

The third and most valuable public testimonial (for Tom had many gifts of snuff-boxes, canes, pencil-cases, etc., from private friends), was known as “The Champion Testimonial,” and consisted of a noble tankard in silver, of the capacity of one gallon, or six bottles of wine, with a lining of 450 sovereigns, the balance of a subscription of over £500 raised by the ex-Champion’s friends. The tankard, which was executed by Messrs. Hunt and Roskell, is a beautiful work of art, ornamented with chased bands of leaves of the British oak and English rose. The cover was surmounted by a bold acorn, the outer edge having, in raised letters, “THE SPRING TESTIMONIAL.” On the shield it bears the inscription:—

“Presented By Public Subscription to THOMAS WINTER SPRING, EX-CHAMPION OF ENGLAND, In Testimony of the Sincere Respect in which he is held For his Pure and Honourable Conduct During his Long and Unblemished Career In Public and Private Life. 1846.”

After an excellent dinner (on Tuesday, May 19, 1846), presided over by the editor of _Bell’s Life in London_ (Vincent George Dowling, Esq.), the Chairman took occasion thus to allude to the letters of various distant subscribers: “Every letter he had seen bore testimony to the public and private worth of Spring, and spoke of him as a man whose unblemished integrity, benevolence of heart, urbanity of disposition, and unquestionable courage, entitled him to the highest praise. In all and every of these sentiments he concurred. From the first hour he had known him he had watched his conduct, and he could conscientiously say that in his opinion a more honest or a more high-principled man did not exist. But in whatever light he might regard this testimony towards Spring, it had a higher value in his eyes, as being the representative of those sentiments of admiration with which the feelings of honour and honesty were regarded by every class of the community. It was a proof that such qualities were not overlooked, and he only regretted that every pugilist in England could not be assembled in that room to witness the fruits of a career distinguished by these virtues, as it would afford them the best encouragement to persevere in the same course, and probably elicit similar marks of favour.” After some further laudatory remarks, the Chairman presented the testimonial, with an earnest belief that it would be received with becoming sentiments of gratitude, and in the hope that Spring might long live to see it grace his table, in addition to his other cups, as a sterling representative of his merits, and of the sincere respect to which he had entitled himself.

After a short pause Spring rose, almost overpowered by his feelings. He knew not, he said, how to express in words the overflowing sentiments of gratitude with which his heart was bursting. He had certainly endeavoured through life to steer the straight-forward and honest course, and when he looked inwardly he could not charge himself with ever having given ground for shaking the confidence of his friends (hear). Still he could not persuade himself he was better than other men, or that he had entitled himself to this magnificent token of public favour—for public it was, arising as it had from the spontaneous contribution of a large and mixed portion of his countrymen—to whom he could not say how sincerely he was obliged, or how deeply sensible he was of their munificent liberality. When he received the cup presented to him at Manchester, and subsequently that given to him by his friends in Herefordshire, both of which were then on the table, and when to these were added other tokens, less in value, but not less dearly appreciated, he could not but feel proud; but when these were followed by the testimonial now presented to him, he candidly confessed the fondest wishes of his ambition had been realised. He should indeed cherish it with a becoming sense of its intrinsic and representative value, and would, in the closing years of his life, look back to this day as one of surpassing interest to himself and to all those who were dear to him. Here Spring could no longer sustain his self-possession, and placing his hand on the tankard with deep emotion, he concluded by saying, “I can only thank you, and all else I might say I must leave to your own hearts to imagine.” (Loud and continued cheers.)

Caunt, Ned Neale, Frank Redmond, Johnny Broome, Owen Swift, Dan Dismore, Joe Phelps, etc., were among the pugilists present; and Mr. Sant, one of the earliest backers and a constant friend of Tom Spring, after a warm eulogy on mine host, proposed “The Subscribers to the Testimonial.”

From this period to that of his death, on the 20th of August, 1851, Spring dispensed the hospitalities of the Castle, never losing a friend, except by the hand of death. In his later days, family difficulties, and too great a confidence in self-styled friends, who induced him to execute turf commissions, and when the thing went wrong were absentees or defaulters, added to his embarrassments. Still he held on, universally respected by all who knew him until his 56th year, when pale death struck him down somewhat suddenly, the blow being dealt through a heart disease of some years’ standing. His funeral took place with becoming solemnity on Sunday, the 25th of August, 1851, his remains being followed by several mourning coaches and other carriages to the grave. In the first carriage were his only surviving son, Melchior Winter; Mr. Price, of Hereford, his solicitor and executor; his firm friend, Mr. Elbam, of Piccadilly; and the writer of these pages. Poor Tom lies buried in the Norwood Cemetery, beneath the monument which we have here engraved. “Peace be to his manes!” Few men who have led a public life have less reason to dread the last call of “Time,” than Thomas Winter Spring.