It was a great event. Heenan was certainly a magnificent specimen of humanity and a great athlete. In build and figure he reminded me of the statue of the dying gladiator. He stood six feet one and a half inches, while Tom Sayers only measured five feet eight and a half inches. But Tom was a wonder. There have been greater boxers—Jem Mace to wit; but as a fighter he was incomparable. Apart from his courage, his tact and judgment were phenomenal—not once did he let an opportunity slip. Relying upon these qualities, his great soul never hesitated when there was a question of pitting himself against such giants as the Tipton Slasher, Aaron Jones and others. He was ready to face any odds. Nat Langham was the only man who ever beat him. The fight with Heenan, which lasted two hours and six minutes, was his last appearance in the ring. When we think of the sums earned by Carpentier, Jack Johnson and the glove fighters of to-day, it seems almost incredible that fifty-five years ago a fight for the international championship should have taken place for no more than £200 a side, and that the subscription got up for Sayers should have amounted only to a sum of £3,000, settled upon him with remainder to his children, on condition that he should never fight again. Heenan fought once more in England, with Tom King, who beat him. Curiously enough, on this occasion Sayers was his old adversary’s second. Tom King was a splendidly handsome man. I saw him make his first appearance in London at a benefit at the Canterbury Hall, a tall slip of a lad, six feet two inches, looking like a young Apollo. He had been a sailor and his long arms were phenomenally developed by hauling at the ropes, in days when there were still ropes. He was matched, with the gloves of course, against a huge negro. The two smote at one another, rushing round the ring with as little science as schoolboys; it was a mere “rough and tumble.” Harrison, the famous fencing master, who was standing by me, turned round to me and said, “That youngster, properly trained and taught, ought to make a champion.” It was a sound prophecy, for Tom King worked hard, made himself into a famous fighter, defeated Jem Mace, the prince of boxers, and finally won his battle with Heenan for £2,000. Prices were beginning to go up. Neither man ever fought again. Tom King, who was a steady, clever fellow, became a bookmaker and gathered together a comfortable fortune.