III.--That in every Main Battle, no person whatever shall be upon the Stage, except the Principals and their Seconds; the same rule to be observed in bye-battles, except that in the latter Mr. Broughton is allowed to be upon the Stage to keep decorum, and to assist Gentlemen in getting to their places, provided always he does not interfere in the Battle; and whoever pretends to infringe these Rules to be turned immediately out of the house. Everybody is to quit the Stage as soon as the Champions are stripped, before the set-to. IV.--That no Champion be deemed beaten, unless he fails coming up to the line in the limited time, or that his own Second declares him beaten. No Second is to be allowed to ask his Man’s adversary any questions, or advise him to give out. V.--That in Bye-battles, the winning man have two-thirds of the Money given, which shall be publicly divided upon the Stage, notwithstanding private agreements to the contrary. VI.--That to prevent Disputes, in every Main Battle the Principals shall, on coming to the Stage, choose from among the gentlemen present two Umpires, who shall absolutely decide all Disputes that may arise about the Battle; and if the two Umpires cannot agree, the said Umpires to choose a third, who is to determine it. VII.--That no person is to hit his Adversary when he is down, or seize him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist; a man on his knees to be reckoned down. It will be seen that all contingencies are by no means covered by these regulations, but in those days far more was left to the judgment and discretion of the Umpires and the Referee. Spectators, even “interested” onlookers who had plunged on the event, were usually willing to abide by their decisions; and, as a general thing, though there was more elbow-room for rascality than in later times, the men fought fairly. Anyhow, Egan says that they did. Whether the death of bare-knuckle fighting is to be mourned is not a question to be dealt with in the first chapter. As George Borrow observed very many years ago, “These are not the days of pugilism,” and without attempting any discussion of the rights and wrongs of the general problem, we may yet read the annals of the Ring and draw our own conclusions from particular instances. The “days of pugilism” are unlikely to return. It is not, indeed, until we come to George Borrow that we find the praises of boxing sung as a sport, as an outlet for energy, as pure good fun. It is true that, being Borrow, he tells us in _Romany Rye_ of a character who regarded it “as a great defence against Popery.” But Borrow, when he left Popery alone, had a splendid, “Elizabethan” and full-blooded view of life, whether he was concerned with the pleasures of milling or the “genial and gladdening power of good ale, the true and proper drink of Englishmen.”