Chapter VIII: Tom Paddock (2)

20-24.――Jones planted on Paddock’s frontispiece
cleverly; but there was no steam in the hits. In the
last-named round Paddock slipped down, but instantly
jumped up to renew the round; Jones, who was in the
arms of his seconds, released himself, and at it they
went. After some wild exchanges, the men embraced,
swung round, and both fell.

25.――Paddock got home his left bunch of fives on
Aaron’s sadly damaged optic. Jones returned on the side
of the head, and in going down narrowly escaped a
swinging blow from Paddock’s right.

26.――Jones dashed in on the snout, whence spouted a
crimson jet, then closed, and, after a short struggle,
both fell, Paddock under.

27.――Jones again rattled in, but his left-hand blows
seemed mere pushes, his following hits with the right
being sharp and heavy. After mutual exchanges, Jones
again gripped Paddock and threw him, falling over him.
As they lay on the ground Paddock patted Jones on the
shoulder, in a patronising way, as if saying, “Well
done, my lad!”

28.――Jones broke ground by letting go both hands, but
they were mere fly-flaps. In trying to get nearer he
missed his left, over-reached himself, and fell.

29.――Paddock, tired of the defensive, dashed in; they
quickly got to work, and after a merry rally, in which
there were several mutual misses, both were down,
Paddock undermost.

30-34.――Good sharp rounds, with equal success; Paddock
getting twice or three times on to Jones’s good
eye――the right――which looked in danger of following
suit like its sinister brother. In the last round
Paddock again thrown.

35.――Paddock, anxious for a turn, went in resolutely;
Jones met him with the right, and propped him severely,
his left, though he made use of it in stopping, doing
no damage to his opponent. In the exchanges Paddock
slipped down.

36-46.――Similar in character, sharp rallies, some wild
but punishing exchanges; Jones the best of the closes,
but Paddock hitting hardest.

47.――Jones went in and forced his man determinedly; he
got his right hand heavily on Tom’s listener, but
received a slashing upper-cut while attempting to
close, he staggered and fell, his knees evidently
failing him.

48.――Paddock grinned at his opponent, and looked round
at his friends, nodding his head as he put up his hands
at the scratch. He popped in his left on the side of
Aaron’s head, who fell, Paddock just missing a
right-hander as Jones went to earth.

49-52.――Jones’s fighting ineffective, and Paddock
slowly improving his position.

53.――Paddock again visited the old spot on Jones’s left
cheek, and Jones was again down. It was evident the
steam was out of Jones’s deliveries, though he yet
preserved his form of stopping and hitting. In fact,
his left was no longer his best weapon. From this to
the 70th round comparatively little mischief was done,
through exhaustion from continued exertion, falls, and
repeated blows. Paddock, whose hands were swollen by
repeated visitations to Jones’s forehead and brain-pan,
did but little execution, while Jones, with his
sprained left shoulder and weakened understandings, was
too tottery to go in with effect. In the 78th round
Paddock sent a smasher into Jones’s remaining window,
the shutter of which was fast closing. Cries of “Take
him away!” to which Jones contemptuously replied, “I’m
good for another hour!”

79.――Paddock went in as if to finish, but Jones
astonished him by stopping his left, and retaliating
with such a stinger on the side of the nut, that he
rolled down and over, amidst the shouts of the
spectators.

80.――Jones was evidently fighting against fate.
Paddock, though his hands were puffed, seemed little
the worse for wear in wind or strength, while Jones was
weak on his pins, pumped out, had but one good arm, and
was gradually losing distinct vision. Forty-one more
rounds were fought, making 121; but though Jones made
many gallant efforts to turn the tide, fate was against
him. His backers (the principal one was absent) were
willing he should give in, but the game fellow would
not hear of it. He gradually became blind, and, at
length, in the 121st round, he rushed wildly in the
direction of Paddock, who steadily propped him on the
side of the jaw with the left, then delivering his
right on the body, down went poor Aaron in a heap,
nature forsook him, and Paddock stood over him the
victor, after a determined struggle of _two hours and
twenty-four minutes_.

Both men were immediately conveyed on board “Waterman
No. 7,” where they received every attention. Paddock
quickly recovered, though his external marks of
punishment were numerous and severe; Jones, however,
was not himself for a considerable period. The boat at
once returned to town; but as she departed before the
second fight (between Spooner and Donovan) was
concluded, ourselves and many others were compelled to
avail ourselves of the Gravesend Railway, _via_
Dartford or Purfleet, which brought all in good time to
their homes in the great Metropolis.

REMARKS.――The reader of the foregoing account will
cordially agree with us that Jones in this gallant
battle completely wiped out any stain of cowardice
which the result of his battle with Orme might have
attached to his character. His own statement to us,
that he did not refuse to meet Orme a third time from
any dread of punishment, but simply upon the advice of
his backers and friends, was fully borne out. His
perseverance, after the disablement of his left
shoulder in the 18th round, and the unflinching
endurance with which he faced so determined a
two-handed hitter as Paddock, for ever dispose of the
imputation of a white feather in Aaron’s composition.
The loser certainly left no stone unturned, no resource
untried, to achieve victory, and if he failed to
command success he did more――he deserved it. Paddock,
as usual in his later fights, fought with coolness and
good-humour, taking the roughest blows and falls
without a murmur. His left cheek, eye, temple, and ear
were fearfully swollen, while the right side presented
a curious contrast by retaining its original shape and
expression. His hands were more injured than in any of
his previous battles, and this will account for the
protracted nature of the contest after the tide had
turned against Jones. The fairness of Paddock’s
fighting, even, on several occasions, to the extent of
forbearance, was the admiration of all who witnessed
the contest. Paddock, too, was certainly weak towards
the close, owing to the burning sun under which the
battle was fought. For ourselves, the mere work of
sitting in a somewhat constrained position, in the full
blaze of its rays, attending to our duties as referee,
occasionally holding a bet, and taking the note which
form the “bones” of the foregoing account, so entirely
beat us that we can speak feelingly of the labours of
the men who were subjected to and went through such a
trying ordeal. Their endurance speaks volumes for the
wonderful results attainable by training and condition.
In brief, we may say in conclusion, that a better or
more courageous fight has not been seen since Paddock
last met the game and persevering Poulson.

The battle-money (£200) was handed to Paddock on the ensuing Monday, at Alec Keene’s, “Three Tuns,” Moor Street, Soho, when a handsome collection was made as a golden salve for the wounds of the brave but unfortunate Aaron Jones.

That Aaron Jones fully removed by his last two battles every trace of suspicion as to want of game is certain, but that he will ever be able to take a first-rate position as a pugilist is extremely dubious; not from want of either courage or capabilities as a punisher, but from the simple fact that his constitution is not sufficiently strong to enable him to stand for any great length of time the fatigues of a contest with a determined lasting adversary like Paddock. He is a civil, well-conducted young fellow, and a great favourite among those who know him well. His defeat has not lost him a single friend, though it has gained him many. It is just possible that his constitutional defects may be removed as he grows older, and if they are, he will prove an awkward customer to any one who may fancy him; but unless he can improve his stamina, and that very materially, we would advise him to abstain in future from milling pursuits. Paddock fought steadier and with more generalship than we had given him credit for, and, to our surprise, his hands, which in all former battles had swelled so as almost to incapacitate him from inflicting punishment, stood firm and hard to the last. His hits were delivered with much judgment, and, although he was fearfully punished, he never flinched from his task. He says it was a much tougher job than he expected, and does not disguise the fact that he was glad when it was over; he also adds, that whoever fights Jones in future will find he must put up with a good deal more punching than will do him good. Many persons found fault with Paddock for dropping on several occasions after delivering his right on Jones’s most vulnerable point, the ribs, and certainly we agree that such a practice should have been avoided. It must be remembered, however, that Paddock was himself seriously injured, and fast growing blind, and that he could scarcely be expected to display that coolness which under more favourable circumstances would have been expected from him. These dropping manœuvres were also in a material degree counterbalanced by his manly conduct in the eleventh round, when he refrained from punishing Jones, when the latter was in a defenceless but perfectly fair position for being hit.

Our hero was allowed scant breathing-time after this tremendous encounter. At the giving up of the stakes at Mr. Jackson’s, King Street Mews, Park Lane, on the following Tuesday, the fearless Tom Sayers presented himself and proposed a battle for £200, catch-weight, but the details were postponed to a future meeting at Bill Hayes’s in the ensuing week. In the interval Tom’s friends had entered into what the politicians call _pourparlers_ with some friends of Harry Poulson, and this proved “a red herring” that crossed the “line,” and so the match with Tom Sayers was for the present a lost “scent.”

In the papers of August 27, we read as follows:――

“The gallant Tom Paddock having waited for some time for a
reply to the question we put to the Tipton Slasher, as
to whether he intends to maintain his claim to the
Championship, and having seen no answer, declares that if
Perry has retired――as he is at a loss to know which of these
worthies is actual Champion――he will fight Harry Broome
for £200 or £300 a side.” [We may state, for Paddock’s
information, that Broome, when he forfeited some time back
to the Slasher, declared his intention of retiring from the
Ring, and leaving the title to the Tipton.] “Paddock adds
that if neither Perry nor Broome takes up the gauntlet, he
shall consider himself Champion, as prepared to meet all
comers.”

In the following week’s issue, the Editor announces that Johnny Broome has called on him, and left a deposit to “find a man” who will fight Paddock for £200, or any larger sum.

As the day of the battle approached, the interest in the expected encounter increased, and the eighteenth deposit, carrying the stakes up to £160, being duly posted at Alec Keene’s, “Three Tuns,” Moor Street, Soho, all seemed going fairly. On the following Tuesday, however, an alarming intelligence reached Air Street, that Harry had been apprehended at his training quarters at Patcham, and taken before the Brighton magistrates, by whom he had been bound over to keep the peace for three months, thus putting an end to hostilities for that period at least. We shall not here encumber our pages by any detail of the angry “’fending and proving” which followed this very mysterious arrest, of which each sought to cast the blame on his opponent’s party. On this occasion the Editor of _Bell’s Life_, who was the stakeholder, declared it to be his duty, from documents laid before him, to hand over to Paddock the £180 deposited, which was done on the 20th of February, 1855. Hereupon Broome deposited £10 for a fresh match, to come off on May 7th, after the expiry of Harry’s recognisances, which Paddock covered, and once again received forfeit from his wrangling opponent on the 12th of March. Hereupon the “highest authority” declared, “in answer to numerous correspondents,” that “Tom Paddock is now Champion of England, until the position is wrested from him by the Tipton Slasher or Aaron Jones, or confirmed to him by their defeat.” And here we may note that “old K-legs” was still “pegging away on the same line;” but the ruddy hero of Redditch fancied Aaron Jones to be an easier job, so he postponed his old friend’s invitation, and joined issue with Jones by signing articles on April 3rd, at Bill Hayes’s, the “Crown,” in Cranbourne Passage, to fight on the 26th of June, 1855, for £100 a side, within 70 and over 50 miles from London. As we were present on the previous Thursday, at Dan Dismore’s, and ourselves registered the “ring-constables” for preservation of order on the occasion, it may be interesting to print our note. Those who gave in their names were: Nat Langham, Edward Hoiles (the Spider), Tom Sayers, Jack Grant, Jemmy Welsh, Young Sambo (Welsh), Jemmy Massey, Billy Duncan, Charley Mallett, John Hicks, Alf. Walker, Tom Adams, and Ned More; Ned Adams, Inspector. All these were provided with armlets and a number, and were empowered to prevent any person intruding within the outer roped circle, unless provided with an inner-ring ticket, purchased of them individually or of the appointed distributors. Each of these constables was compensated by an “honorarium” in proportion to the receipts for “privilege” tickets, which was subject to deduction or fines for proved remissness or breach of duty. These arrangements fell into confusion and almost into oblivion when the master-hand which framed them retired from the conduct of the affairs of the Ring, of which he had been, through good report or evil report, through sunshine as through storm, “the guide, philosopher, and friend”――nay, more, the disinterested and zealous champion and advocate. We allude to Vincent Dowling, Esq., who for more than thirty years edited _Bell’s Life in London_, and to whom the hand which writes these lines is proud to own that that teacher was the Gamaliel at whose feet he sat to learn the now forgotten and self-degraded principles of honour, courage, forbearance, and fair play embodied in and inculcated by the Art of Self-Defence. On this occasion the law survived the law-giver, and the most perfect order was maintained. On the former occasion Jones’s friends declared that their man lost the use of his left hand from an injury to his collar-bone in the tenth round, and moreover, that he was suffering from a disablement brought on by undue exertion, for which the application of leeches had been considered necessary only a day or two before the fight. If, they argued, Jones could under these drawbacks, prolong the fight for two hours and twenty-four minutes, to the 121st round, the chances were now in his favour. Besides, Jones, on a recent occasion (at Jem Ward’s benefit) had so unmistakably “bested” Master Tom, flooring him in masterly style, that his friends were “legion” for this second trial. For some time after the signature of articles both men remained in town, but at length Aaron betook himself to Shrewsbury, where he remained until a fortnight before the fight, when he came up to London, and took up his quarters at Sutton, in Surrey, under the surveillance of Bob Fuller, who, “it goes without saying,” did all that could be done to bring him “fit to the post.” Paddock went to the neighbourhood of Leatherhead, where, by strong exercise on the breezy downs, he did all that could be done to bring his “pipes” and muscle into the primest order. We saw him both at the Epsom and Ascot meetings, to each of which he came on “Shanks’s mare” and certainly looked in “wind and limb,” eye, skin, and general complexion, up to anything. On the Monday previous both men showed at the Rotunda, Blackfriars Road, at the gathering for the benefit of the Pugilistic Benevolent Association, and of course received the congratulations of the crowd.

The “special” was chartered on this occasion by Dan Dismore, Hayes, Mr. Jackson, and Paddock’s backer. On our arrival at the terminus we met an immense assemblage of curious folks, who unable to be present at the fight were anxious to get a peep at the men. On the platform was a goodly concourse, noblemen and soldiers, Corinthians and clergy (at any rate, we noticed the “Bishop of Bond Street,” carefully superintending the safe deposit of sundry Fortnum-and-Mason-looking baskets and hampers in the guard’s van), sporting pubs, country-cousins, pugilists, and many well-breeched plebeians. At a few minutes past eight o’clock, both men with their immediate attendants were comfortably seated, and at half-past eight the whistle sounded and away we steamed. The well-known stations on the Eastern Counties were quickly passed, and, with the exception of one stoppage for a “drink” for the iron horse, we had covered nearly eighty miles from Shoreditch before we put on the brakes, and pulled up near Mildenhall, in the county of Suffolk. Here an excellent piece of ground had been selected, and a first-rate inner-and-outer-ring were quickly marked out by Tom Oliver, Tom Callas, and assistants. A brisk trade in tickets for the outer enclosure showed a receipt of £33 10s., a very fair contribution to the funds of the P.B.A. The heat, as the men stripped for the encounter, was intense, and by an amicable agreement the usual toss for corners was dispensed with, and the men “placed across the sun;” thus neither had the disadvantage of advancing to the scratch with the rays of that dazzling luminary in his face. At half-past twelve o’clock, the number of spectators numbering a little over a thousand, Jones threw in his cap, attended by Bob Fuller and Bill Hayes, the latter, who was in ill-health, resigning his position soon afterwards to Jerry Noon. Paddock soon followed, Alec Keene and Jemmy Massey acting as his assistants. Paddock, after shaking hands, offered £25 in crisp bank notes to Aaron, on condition of a deposit of £20 on the part of the latter, but Jones declined the wager. The odds round the ring were now at this figure――5 to 4 on Paddock. Jemmy Massey, however, offering “3 to 2, rather than not get on,” had his £15 taken against £10, and the market-price went back again.

As the men stood up Paddock looked red, hard, and, contrary to former exhibitions, sinewy and comparatively lean, with a look of wear and tear about him that spoke well for his attention to training. Jones was fine, symmetrical, and a model for a statuary; but though he smiled and looked healthy and confident, we could not bring ourselves to think he could last out a day’s work with the Redditch man. At six minutes to one the seconds retired and business began.

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――Paddock was evidently not disposed to make a
waiting race; he approached his man with an ominous
smile, and at once launched forth his left, which was
prettily stopped. He tried it a second time, but Jones
was away. Tom would not be denied, but dashed
resolutely in, and caught Jones heavily on the mouth
with his left. Jones turned half round and went down,
bleeding from the lips. (_First blood_ for Paddock.
First knock-down blow was also claimed, but not allowed
by the referee, who considered that Jones was a
consenting party to his own downfall.)

2.――Paddock again tried his left, catching Aaron a
second time on the mouth. This led to some heavy
exchanges, in which Paddock got it on the left cheek
heavily, and Jones in the mouth. Paddock in the end
slipped down.

3.――The men at once got within distance, and heavy
counter-hits left and right were exchanged, Jones with
the latter hand catching Tom another spank on the left
cheek, and receiving on the left peeper and ribs. A
close followed, in which both were down, Jones under.

4.――Paddock came up smiling, when Jones let go his left
heavily on Paddock’s larboard optic, and his right on
his nose――a very heavy hit, which produced a good
supply of red currant juice, and both fell.

5.――Paddock dashed in, but was met with another smasher
on the snout. He retaliated on Aaron’s left eye,
inflicting a cut on the brow, and drawing a fresh tap.
He made his left again on Aaron’s cheek, which led to
heavy exchanges, left and right, both getting it on the
left side of the nut, and Paddock at the close fell on
his south pole.

6.――Jones came up with his left peeper in mourning;
Paddock’s sinister visual organ had on a similar suit.
Paddock determinedly rattled in and tickled Aaron on
the left side of his occiput. He tried a second dose,
but napped an ugly right-hander on the left eyebrow,
which was cut, and the ruby at once responded to the
call. Heavy exchanges without an attempt to stop
followed, and both were down, Paddock under.

7.――Both showed serious marks of punishment, but
neither said “nay.” Some heavy rambling exchanges took
place, and Jones slipped down.

8.――No ceremony on either side, but ding-dong was the
order of the day. The exchanges were in favour of
Paddock, who paid some heavy to visitations Aaron’s
left peeper. In the close both were down.

9.――Jones attempted to lead off, but Paddock got
cleverly away; Jones followed him up, and some
tremendous exchanges took place, Jones in the end
knocking Paddock off his legs by a tremendous crack
from his right on the jaw. (First knock-down blow for
Jones.)

10.――Paddock looked serious――he was evidently shaken by
the hit in the last round. Jones, however, instead of
going to work, waited for him. Paddock quickly
recovered, and just touched Aaron on the proboscis;
this brought on a rally, in which little mischief was
done, and Jones got down.

11.――Paddock took the lead, planted a left-hander on
Jones’s left daylight; Jones retaliated by a
right-hander on the same spot, and then a second
edition of the same, and in getting back fell on the
ropes; he was not down, and Paddock might with fairness
have struck him, but, with a manly feeling, for which
he is entitled to much credit, walked to his own corner
amidst cheers from both sides.

12.――This was a tremendous fighting round. It commenced
with some heavy exchanges left and right, Paddock
reaching Aaron’s left eye, and the latter pounding Tom
on the smeller. A break away, followed by some severe
counter-hits in favour of Jones, who again drew Tom’s
cork, brought them to a close, in which both were down.
Paddock distilling the ruby from his nose and left eye,
and Jones from the nozzle. (The facetious Jerry Noon
remarked that it was “Chelsea Hospital to a sentry-box”
on Jones.)

13.――Jones led off, caught Tom another nasty one on the
side of his knowledge-box, and Tom, astonished at its
suddenness, dropped.

14.――Paddock tried his left, which was neatly stopped.
Again did he make the attempt with a like result, but
Jones with quickness planted his right on the damaged
left eye with effect, and Paddock fell, Jones on him.

15.――Tom came up with his left shutter nearly closed,
and the cheek on the same side as big as a pumpkin. He
attempted to lead off, but was again well stopped. He
would persevere, and got home on Jones’s left ogle.
Jones countered heavily on the same point, and Paddock
again got down, Jones on him.

16.――Jones rushed at his man, who in retreating fell.

17.――Paddock led off, but missed. Tremendous
counter-hits followed, Paddock getting it on the side
of his nut from Jones’s right, and Jones being knocked
off his legs by a heavy visitation on his left cheek,
which inflicted a severe cut and spilled more of the
vital fluid.

18.――Paddock again missed a well-intended left hander,
and, after a few scrambling exchanges, Jones fell weak.
He had evidently not recovered the terrific hit in the
last round.

19.――Paddock let go his left, which caught Jones on the
damaged chop, but not heavily. Jones returned on the
left eye, and Paddock dropped laughing.

20.――Paddock went to his man, who let go his left on
the side of his head, and Paddock fell. He jumped up to
renew the round, when Jones at once went to work,
pegged away left and right, drawing some more claret
from the left eye. Paddock returned on the left cheek,
but in the end was knocked through the ropes, Jones
falling weak from his own exertions.

21.――Paddock’s lead was again stopped, and Jones again
propped him on the left cheek. Paddock dropped, and
once more jumped up to renew the round, but Jones’s
seconds forced him away to his owner.

22.――Jones, slightly recovered from his weakness, went
to work, and some tremendous counter-hits were
exchanged, Paddock on the left eye, and Jones on the
smelling bottle. Paddock now shoved in his right
heavily on Jones’s ribs, and dropped, amidst cries of
“Foul.” No appeal, however, was made, and the affair
passed off.

23.――Paddock came up with his left ocular completely
closed, the opposite cheek being swollen as if from
sympathy. Jones’s left eye was also barely open.
Paddock went resolutely to work with both hands, Jones
retaliating, and in the end Jones fell.

24.――Paddock took the lead by another essay upon
Jones’s head, which staggered him. Paddock at once
closed, threw, and fell on him.

25.――Slight changes to a close, in which a little
mutual fibbing took place. In the end both down,
Paddock under, but still much the fresher man.

26.――Jones attempted to open the pleadings, but Paddock
stepped back, jobbing him on the snuffbox as he came
in. Slogging exchanges now took place, in favour of
Jones, who caught Paddock a tremendous right hander
behind the left ear, which cut that organ severely, and
opened a new crimson conduit. The men closed and fell
together, Jones under.

27.――Paddock, although bleeding from the left ear and
eye, came up merrily, and led off with the left on
Aaron’s os frontis. Jones returned with a heavy right
hander on Tom’s darkened peeper, and again knocked him
off his pins.

28.――Paddock, who was very slow to the call of time,
came up weak. Jones led off, with his right on the
nose, but had not devil enough to let it go with a
will. Paddock retreated until he had shaken off the
effects of the knock-down in the last round, and then
caught Jones heavily on the body. Jones returned on the
mouth with effect, the blow turning Paddock half round.
Paddock at once walked to his corner and sat down――an
example followed by Jones. This hit was very severe,
and many persons thought Paddock would not come many
more rounds.

29.――Paddock tried to lead off, but was stopped. Jones
then planted his left slightly on the right cheek, and
Paddock got down.

30.――Jones went to work, but without force, and after
some slight exchanges, both fell on their knees
exhausted. The intense heat must have been indeed
distressing to both.

31.――Slight exchanges, in which little mischief was
done, and Paddock again down.

32.――Both attempted to deliver, and both missed their
mark. Slight exchanges, each on the left side of the
nut, and both down fatigued.

33.――Jones essayed a lead, which was neatly stopped. He
then dashed in, and after a scrambling rally both fell
over the ropes.

34.――Paddock’s head presented an unique specimen of
Aaron’s handiwork. The left cheek was swollen as big as
a cocoa-nut, and his eye was all but covered up. With
the other optic he glared furiously upon his opponent,
and rushing at him, delivered his left on the cheek.
Jones returned slightly on the body, and Tom dropped.

35.――Paddock stopped Aaron’s left. Paddock returned
twice heavily on the ribs with his right, leaving
visible impression of his knuckles, and then dropped
without a return, amidst the hisses of the Aaronites.

36.――Paddock’s left well stopped. A tremendous
ding-dong rally then took place, in which Paddock got
it on the left eye and cheek, and Jones on the ribs. In
the end both down.

37.――Paddock’s left again stopped, and Jones returned
on the side of the wig-block. Paddock then popped in
his left with effect on the mouth, and after some more
exchanges Paddock got down. He looked round anxiously
at Jones, as he was being carried to his corner, and
evidently wished his work was done.

38.――Paddock made his right heavily on Jones’s body,
and then his left on the side of his head. Both now
pegged away with determination, and in a most
unflinching way, as if they had received fresh vigour.
The hitting, however, was in favour of Paddock, and in
the end Jones fell weak. It had evidently been an
expiring effort on his part to get a decided lead, and
having failed it was now patent to all that his defeat
was a mere question of time.

39.――Paddock let go his left on the side of Aaron’s
cheek, which led to some severe counter-hits. They then
closed, and Paddock pegged away with his right at the
ribs until both were down.

40.――Some slight exchanges, without mischief, and Jones
down.

41.――Paddock came up with an awful grin; his single
open peeper glaring in a most ludicrous manner. He
tried to lead off, but napped it on the smeller and
left ear, from which the main was again tuned on.
Paddock then made his right on the ribs, and Jones
dropped.

42.――Paddock again effected a heavy right-handed
delivery on the ribs, and after slight exchanges both
were down.

43.――Slight exchanges, in which neither was effective,
and in a scramble they fell. Paddock under.

44.――Jones attempted to lead off, but was easily
stopped; Paddock returning heavily on his left eye, and
then on the body, again screwed his courage to the
sticking-place, and a second with his right and got
down.

45.――Paddock led off, but was short. In another attempt
he reached Aaron’s damaged bread-basket, and dropped à
la Bendigo. He jumped up to renew the fight, when Jones
nailed him on the left side of his brain-pan, and Tom
finally dropped to end this round.

46.――Jones tried to lead, but was very slow, and easily
stopped. Paddock again reached his ribs with his right,
and a sharpish rally ended in their failing together at
the ropes.

47.――Paddock’s left was out of distance; he tried his
right at the body but missed, and Jones dashing in,
caught him on the right cheek slightly, and fell on his
face.

48.――Counter-hits with the left, Paddock catching Jones
very heavily on the left temple, and dropping him as if
shot.

49.――Jones, very slow to the call of time, at length
came up wildly. He staggered in to close, and they
fell, Jones under.

50.――Jones, alter a futile attempt to punish, fell
weak.

51.――Slight exchanges, but no mischief, and both down.

52.――Wild, swinging hits which did not get home.
Paddock then planted his right heavily on the ribs, and
again got down, amidst loud hisses. There was no appeal
to the referee, and the fight proceeded.

53.――Paddock let go his left on the mouth; slight
exchanges followed, and they then fell on their backs.
Both were much exhausted, but Paddock was the stronger
on his pins.

54.――After slight exchanges, Paddock again made his
right at the ribs, and got down.

55.――Paddock led off, but was stopped. They then got
close, and some slight fibbing ended in Jones seeking
Mother Earth. Paddock stood looking at him, as much as
to say, “Why don’t you cut it?” until he was carried to
his corner.

56.――Jones attempted to lead off, but Paddock countered
him heavily on the cheek, and he fell, amidst cries of
“Take him away.”

57.――Jones, although slow to time, came up steadily,
and succeeded in putting in a little one “on the place
where Tom’s eye ought to be,” and having received in
return on the proboscis, he fell on his latter end.

58.――Paddock rushed in to finish, but Jones, to the
surprise of all, stopped him, and some heavy
counter-hits took place. Paddock getting another crack
on his disfigured nob, and hitting Jones down by a
spank on the dice-box.

59.――Paddock planted his left on Jones’s kissing-organ
heavily, opening a fresh tap, and Aaron again dropped.
For two more rounds did Jones stagger up to the
scratch, but it was only to receive――all the steel was
out of him――he was extremely weak on his legs, one eye
was closed, and the other following suit; his nose,
mouth, and ribs were severely damaged, while
Paddock――although tremendously disfigured about the
title-page――had still a little “go” left in his
trotters. Every one begged of Jones or his seconds on
his behalf to give in, but the gallant fellow
persevered against hope until the close of the 61st
round, when getting another heavy crack on the mouth,
he fell, almost senseless, and his seconds threw up the
sponge in token of defeat, at the end of one hour and
twenty-nine minutes. Poor Aaron, who had done all he
could do to turn the tide in his favour, was much
mortified by this second defeat at the hands of
Paddock, and cried like a child. He could scarcely walk
on leaving the ring, and was obliged to lie down on an
adjacent bank for some time before he could be removed
to the station. Paddock was no great shakes, and was
evidently much delighted that his task was at an end.
He went into the ring with a full conviction that he
should not gain a bloodless victory, and that he should
get his brain-pan pretty well knocked about, but we
question whether even he, confident as he was,
anticipated that it would be quite so “hot” as it
turned out.

REMARKS.――Every one who witnessed the above battle will
cordially agree with us that it was a determined, manly
struggle for pre-eminence throughout. It clearly
demonstrated to our mind, however, the fact that Jones
does not possess sufficient physique to enable him to
contend successfully against such a hardy bit of stuff
as Tom Paddock. True, he is a harder hitter than
Paddock, but then, after a time, unless a man has a
frame of iron, this gift is materially diminished by
the constant jar; and a determined adversary, with such
a granite nob as Tom Paddock, capable of receiving
almost any amount of punishment, is almost certain to
last longest at mere give-and-take fighting, as was
fully proved on Tuesday. Jones, notwithstanding he had
received hints from the most accomplished boxer of the
day, Jem Ward, still persevered in his old system of
hitting principally with his right-hand, a practice
which, although it altered Paddock’s physiognomy in the
most extraordinary manner on one side, still was not
calculated, unattended as it was by much execution from
his left, to reduce his opponent to a state of
darkness. He punished Paddock more than that hero was
ever punished before, and we believe that, did he
possess more wear and tear, it would have been a much
nearer thing than it was. He had for some time the best
of the hitting, but, falling weak, the inequality was
quickly removed by the determination of Paddock, who,
seeing that he had his work to do, never gave Jones
breathing time to collect his faculties.

The Old Tipton being matched with Aaron Jones, and Harry Broome being supposed to have retired from pugilism to publicanism, Tom was standing idle in the market-place, when on the 2nd of December he was enlivened by reading the following in the Ring column of _Bell_, under the heading of “WHO IS TO HAVE THE BELT?” A new one having been just put into the hands of a fashionable goldsmith from the proceeds of a public subscription:

“MR. EDITOR,――It was my intention never to have entered the
roped arena again, but the persuasions of my old friends and
backers have determined me to pull off my shirt once more. I
now come forward for the satisfaction of the public and the
Prize Ring, in order to determine who’s the better man, Tom
Paddock or myself. I will fight him for £200 a side for the
Champion’s Belt, which I feel I am entitled to, for both the
Tipton Slasher and Aaron Jones have been beaten by me or by
men that I have beaten, and therefore I claim it, and shall
do so until fairly beaten in a roped ring, as a trophy of
that description ought to be contested for man to man, and
never obtained upon a mere challenge. To prove that I mean
to carry out what I state, I will meet Paddock at your
office on Wednesday, Dec. 12, to sign articles, to which the
following condition must be attached:――The money not, under
any circumstances, to be parted with until _fairly won or
lost_ in a 24 feet roped ring. Should this not suit Paddock
(not that I wish to interfere with the match between the
Tipton Slasher and Aaron Jones) I will fight Aaron Jones for
£200 a side, whether he wins or loses with the Tipton
Slasher. By inserting this, you will oblige.――Yours, &c.,

“HENRY BROOME.”
“Bell’s Life” Tavern, Strand,
November 28, 1855.

Paddock lost no time in calling on the stakeholder, and leaving £10 early in the next week, under condition that if he could not raise £200, they should meet for £100. Broome did not flinch, and, after two more “conditional” deposits, articles were signed in the editorial sanctum of _Bell’s Life_, by which Thomas Paddock and Henry Broome mutually bound themselves to fight for £200 a side, on Monday, May 19th, 1856, within 100 and over 50 miles from London. The anxiety in boxing circles, as the day drew near and all was found progressing smoothly to the desired issue, became intense; and Alec Keene’s “Three Tuns,” in Moor Street, whence Paddock was backed, and Harry’s own house, the newly named “Bell’s Life” Tavern (now the “Norfolk Arms”), in the Strand, were crowded with curious inquirers as to how the men went on, and for “the straight tip.” On the day previous both champions showed, and the distribution of colours――a blue with white spot for Broome, and a blue with a white check for Paddock――on the usual terms of a guinea or “nothing,” was extensive. Paddock was closely scrutinised by both friends and foes, each equally anxious to ascertain whether time or previous contests had impaired his freshness or vigour; but no traces of deterioration were there, and those who felt his muscle declared their belief that he was never in finer trim.

Harry’s appearance, so far as his face was concerned, was that of perfect health, and the disappearance of the protuberance which had long been visible under his waistcoat was remarkable. These signs of careful training, with the prestige of his name, carried the odds to 6 and 7 to 4 in his favour. We knew that he worked hard and was most creditably abstemious; but we feared, as the sequel proved, that he was unable to train efficiently, and that strength was lost in the great reduction of weight to which he had been subjected.

It had been the original intention of the backers of the men to have given the inhabitants of Kent and Sussex the opportunity of a view of this encounter; but it proved, upon inquiry, that it was impossible to obtain a “special” on those lines, as some saints in the directorate of the companies had issued an ukase against such “excursions” as were not to their own taste or under their own patronage. Recourse was, therefore, had to the Eastern Counties, where the necessary facilities for an excursion of “Odd Fellows” was applied for and granted. It was suggested to the “managers” of the “outing”――Alec Keene, Fred Broome, and Dan Dismore――that any invasion of the territory of Cambridge, Huntingdon, or the country round Mildenhall or Brandon, would inevitably be resisted; so these worthies, after consultation with experienced strategists, deemed it prudent to abandon the old and beaten track, and strike out a new plan of campaign. The company’s agent was, therefore, apprised that the excursionists wished to pass through Suffolk into Norfolk, by the Eastern Union Line, as their place of reunion would be a few miles beyond Ipswich. The officials made their arrangements accordingly, and on our arrival at the Shoreditch terminus, at eight o’clock on Monday morning, we found that no pains had been spared to prevent anything like crushing or disorder at the doors. The neighbourhood of the station was, as usual, crowded with anxious spectators, who hoped to get a view of the principals in the forthcoming duel; but, so far as Broome was concerned, they were disappointed, as he had proceeded at an early hour to Stratford, where it was arranged the train should stop and pick him up. Paddock, however, accompanied by Jemmy Massey and Alec Keene, was early at the starting-place, and was eagerly greeted by the multitude. From the heavy tariff which had been determined on, we fully expected to find the company not only very select, but far from numerous, and we anticipated that the original number of carriages ordered would have been found sufficient; but such was the rush of the public, that, long before the hour of starting, every carriage was filled, and chiefly by respectable persons. It was soon perceptible that a considerable addition to the conveyances was required, and no less than seven extra carriages were added, all of which filled almost immediately; and, not only so, but very shortly after the special had started a sufficient number of gentlemen arrived at the station to charter another train of some four or five carriages, to follow that containing the belligerents. Among the _voyageurs_ by the first train were almost all the pugilists of note, and an immense number of Corinthians of every grade. In fact, a larger muster of the higher classes we have not seen on such an occasion for many years. There were one or two familiar faces missing, but there were quite sufficient new hands to make up for the deficiency. Among the company was an Indian prince of high rank, and his suite, anxious to obtain a glimpse of the peculiarly national spectacle, and we were delighted to hear that he was treated throughout with the greatest respect, and suffered not the slightest indignity from the thoughtless throng on account of his peculiar appearance or unaccustomed manners; a piece of good behaviour on the part of an unpoliced crowd that was a creditable example to those public gatherings which pretend to superior order and civility. The only complaint we heard on the way down was on the subject of the commissariat, the want of “belly-timber” being universally felt. It turned out that the absence of refreshment among the Corinthians was attributable to the pressure of a certain class at the doors of the station, who, unwilling to pay, and anxious to get a trip for nothing, besieged the doors at the latest moment, in the hope of taking the officials off their guard, and so making a rush for the platform. The formidable appearance of this phalanx induced the police of the line to close the doors and refuse admission to all. Unluckily, amongst the late arrivals, was Mr. Commissary Dismore, who, with his Land Transport Corps, well provided with everything necessary, arrived just too late. Dan himself contrived to get round by a private way on to the platform, but, alas! the “vital ammunition” was cut off. Thanks, however, to the second special, the provisions were brought down in time for the hungry and thirsty souls to refresh themselves after the mill, when due justice was done to Dan’s ample provision. The first special did not leave Shoreditch until a quarter past nine; it reached Stratford about half-past; and here Harry Broome and his friends were picked up. Harry’s mug looked hard and healthy, and about his mouth was a smile of confidence. The universal exclamation was, “How well he looks!” and the short glimpse obtained of him induced many persons to “open” at offers of 7 to 4 on him――offers which the friends of Paddock were not slow to accept. The train now sped on at a good pace to Chelmsford, where water was taken in, and we again set forward on our journey. At Manningtree, where a second refresher was necessary for the engine, an intimation was received that the “war hawks” were abroad, and that the Ipswich police had, through the indiscretion of some would-be-clever persons, who had gone on over night, obtained a scent of what was intended, and had telegraphed to the police at Diss, in Norfolk, and other places, to be on the look-out. This intimation arrived most opportunely, and it was at once resolved to put on the double, and to bring off the mill as close as possible to Ipswich, where it was least expected. The commander-in-chief mounted the engine, and, under his direction, a likely spot was selected, where the train was brought to a halt, and the assembled multitude, to the number of at least five hundred, dropped upon the field like a flight of crows. Several of the committee of the P.B.A. at once spread themselves about the field in skirmishing order to select the best spot, but while they were so engaged the Commissary and Callas had pitched upon a place which, although not the best, was still tolerably level, and the grass was not very long. Here no time was lost in getting up the fixings. It was uncertain how long the Ipswich “blues” would be hoodwinked, and, therefore, time was everything. A large outer-ring was formed simultaneously with the original circle, and round this the non-paying part of the community quickly ranged themselves. The business of selling inner-ring tickets proceeded briskly, and a sum of £47 was realised thereby, the surplus of which, after paying ring-keepers and the farmer on whose grounds the mill took place for damage to his grass, went to the funds of the Association. So great was the number of privilege ticket-holders that, on sitting down at some distance from the ring, they formed a double row almost the whole way round, and effectually proved their own barrier against the irruption of those who at all times are more free than welcome. It is true that several of the latter class, by some means, obtained access to Broome’s corner later on, where their vociferations were the reverse of agreeable; but, thanks to the exertions of Mike Madden, Bill Barry, and Fred Mason, they were effectually kept within bounds. At length, by a quarter to one, everything was in apple-pie order, and the signal being given, the men at once stepped into the arena; Harry Broome attended by Tass Parker and Tom Sayers, and Paddock under the surveillance of the accomplished Alec Keene and Jemmy Massey. They smiled and shook hands, Harry shaking his nut in a significant manner at Tom, as much as to say, “I’ve got you at last, old fellow.” The colours were now tied to the post, and while the men were preparing their toilet a good deal of betting took place. The first offer was £35 to £20 on Broome――a bet which was at once made and staked. 7 to 4 was then laid very freely, the business of booking and staking going on most briskly. Massey now came forward and offered to take £20 to £10, but not being able to get a higher bid than £15 to £10, he closed, and this amount was staked, as was also a similar bet laid to Alec Keene. The layers now began to hang back, and £30 to £20 became the current odds, at which a good deal more business was done. A heavier amount of betting we never remember to have witnessed at the ring-side; and this tended, more than anything else, to show the intense interest the battle excited. At length, offers became more languid, and finally ceased altogether; and as we did not hear of a single bet after the mill commenced, we are inclined to think that the speculators had staked every farthing they brought with them. By one o’clock it was announced that both men were quite ready, and time being called they were led to the scratch, where, after the usual hands across, they were left, peeled to the buff, and their proportions and condition displayed to the curious gaze of the assembled throng.

Tom Paddock, as he stood at the scratch, looked every inch a gladiator. Each thew and sinew was perfectly developed, and seemed ready to burst the tightened skin. His broad shoulders and deep chest, covered with ponderous muscles, were the admiration of all; and the distinctness with which his lower ribs were visible proved that there was not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his wiry, powerful frame. His mug was hard and ruddy, and there was clearly little there to swell up should his dial come in too close propinquity to Harry’s sledge-hammers. He looked good-humoured, but determined, and evidently feeling the importance of the occasion, he toed the scratch with a determination to “do or die.” Widely different was the aspect presented by the once powerful Harry Broome. True it was that he had got rid of his superabundant belly, but in doing so it was apparent to all that he had also got rid of much of his muscle and sinew. When he fought Harry Orme he was certainly well covered with fat, but still underneath this coating the evidences of great power were plainly visible; but now, what a falling off was there! Barring the aforesaid protuberance, he was as fat as ever, but all appearances of sinewy strength had vanished. His breasts were soft and puffy, his arms round and smooth, while the flesh on his once fine back hung in collops; there was also a slight eruption on his pale skin, which betokened a feverish state of the blood, which would not have been guessed from the appearance of his face. He said he felt quite well, though not so strong as on former occasions. On inquiring of Joe Bostock, who had been with him while he finished his training at Bosham, near Chichester, we learned that he had several times complained of weakness, and that the more he tried to get his fat off the more did it seem to accumulate. Harry himself informed us, and we are satisfied as to the truth of his statement, that he reduced himself upwards of 3st. in the course of his exercise, but he found himself getting so weak that he was compelled at last to be more gentle in his work; and he now declares his belief that had he gone into the ring in his ordinary state, without any preparation whatever, he would have been better and stronger than he was on Monday. With all his drawbacks, however, he was extremely confident as to the result of the battle, and advised his friends to back him at all hazards. He no doubt depended upon his science, and expected to set at defiance the well-known onslaughts of his opponent. We must now bring these preliminaries to a conclusion, and proceed to our account of

THE FIGHT.

Round 1.――Precisely at six minutes past one the
onslaught commenced. Broome, to the astonishment of
all, did not assume the elegant attitude we have seen
in former battles, but feinted and dodged about without
gathering himself together in the least. Tom was
evidently surprised, and thought he must be “kidding;”
he therefore assumed a defensive position, and bided
his time. He had not long to wait. Harry was bent on
forcing an opening, and dashed in, feinted with his
left, ducked his head, and lodged his left heavily on
Tom’s breadbasket. His nut was laid open to a severe
upper cut, but Tom, bewildered, did not see, and
therefore did not take the advantage of his opening.
Broome now came again, let fly his left at the
forehead, inflicting no damage, napped a little one on
the left brow, and slipped down.

2.――Paddock at once rattled in, let go his left with
great quickness on the proboscis, drawing first blood.
Broome returned on the left cheek, and also elicited a
supply of the ruby. Harry then closed, and tried to
throw his man, but, after a short struggle, in which
Tom was very busy with his right at close quarters, Tom
slipped from his grasp and fell.

3.――Broome, out of all form, tried to take a lead, but
in vain. Paddock was too quick for him, and pegged away
heavily left and right on the conk, inflicting a cut on
the bridge thereof, drawing more fluid. Broome again
closed, and Tom resorted to his fibbing system with
both hands heavily on the side of Harry’s nut, and on
his ribs. This effectually put a stop to any chance of
his being thrown, and in the end both fell side by
side.