So they entered the ring--the young Frenchman and the veteran. As ever, Driscoll showed that he was the master of scientific fisticuffs: he was wonderfully quick, and he could still take hard knocks without showing a sign. Poésy was no novice: he could box well and was not so foolish as to underestimate his opponent, as many a young ’un would have done. He began on the defensive, so that Jem Driscoll had to carry the war into the enemy’s country, and once more he showed he could outfight as well as outgeneral a good youth. There was never a question as to who would win, and in the end Driscoll left the ring without a mark, without having received a single damaging blow. All the same, it was an interesting fight, because of Poésy’s pluck and the English champion’s really amazing skill, which showed no falling off from his old high standard. He kept Poésy at long range, never leaving an opening for a knock-out blow, which the Frenchman soon saw was his only chance; never clinching or hugging. It is a pity that more men did not profit by his example. Poésy tried to get at Driscoll’s body. He had beaten Digger Stanley like that. But Driscoll understood in-fighting too, though for choice he boxed at long range. In the tenth and eleventh rounds Poésy woke up and fought like a little fiend. Some one called out from the crowd, “When Poésy does take it into his head to get a move on, you’ll see something.” But all the spectators saw was a ferocious, game, and persevering attack coolly frustrated; and the more the Frenchman attacked, the more he left himself open, so that Driscoll was now hitting harder and oftener than before. Poésy was in beautiful condition, and began the twelfth round with unabated ardour. He dashed at Driscoll and landed a really hard straight left on his jaw. That made Driscoll think for a moment, and he decided that it would not be well to risk too many of that sort. Almost immediately afterwards Poésy coming in, left himself open, and Driscoll knocked him clean off his feet with a right on the chin. The Frenchman gallantly struggled up in five seconds, obviously dazed. Driscoll feinted and dodged about this way and that, so that it was impossible to tell whence the next blow would come, and presently sent over another right which knocked Poésy out of time ... eight, nine, ten! Then Driscoll bent down and picked him up and carried him to his corner. Not at any weight nor at any time was the Championship of England held by a better boxer or a straighter man.