there, broke and banged his right on the body and shot a half-arm blow to the side of the head. Sullivan was in a bad way. He reeled, and Corbett came after him, but the call of time intervened. Sullivan was now hopelessly beaten. He came pluckily up for the twenty-first round, but could hardly put up his hands. Corbett smashed in a right swing to his jaw and the veteran fell. The yells of the watching crowd, and particularly those of his seconds in the corner, helped to steel his resolution, and he dragged himself up at the sixth second. Corbett immediately hit him again, thrice, and it was all over. Youth had been served, and the boxer had beaten the slogger, which, other things being equal, he invariably does. CHAPTER III ROBERT FITZSIMMONS AND JAMES J. CORBETT Robert Fitzsimmons was in all respects the opposite number of Jem Corbett. He was in the great tradition of fighting blacksmiths. A rough, simple soul, who was perfectly content to be a prize-fighter. Three or four years younger than Corbett, a Cornishman by birth, he had emigrated to New Zealand with his people, as a lad. His first successes were won in amateur competitions organised by Jem Mace, the old bare-knuckle champion. Later on he went to Sydney and learned under Larry Foley, himself a pupil of Mace. In 1890 he moved to San Francisco, and for some years he carried all before him. He beat Peter Maher, Jem Hall, Joe Choynski, and Dan Creedon. Then, in 1891, he knocked out Jack Dempsey in thirteen rounds, for the World’s Middle-weight Championship. Fitzsimmons was just short of six feet in height, and, at the time of his fight with Corbett, he had filled out from the middle-weight limit of 11 stone 4 lb. and was now slightly over 12 stone. His is another name that will never be forgotten so long as men talk of boxing. The match between these two was of great importance at the time, and (this is so seldom the case) it is important to look back on: for it was a fight between two strong men, both of great reputation, with somewhat similar records, but perfectly different methods. It was a match between an intensely scientific boxer and a rugged fighter, who had, however, a kind of skill or shrewdness not closely related to conventional boxing science, which carried him very far. Fitzsimmons was, indeed, a more remarkable man than Corbett. In order to explain Fitzsimmons to the best of my ability, it will be necessary to make a small excursion into autobiography.