In concluding our remarks on Belcher’s sparring, the following circumstance is worthy of note. It occurred on the 26th of February, 1817, at the benefit of Cribb. Upon Belcher ascending the stage with H. Lancaster, they were interrupted from all parts of the court, with the cry of “Scroggins.” Mr. Jackson also requested it, for the satisfaction of several amateurs of rank present. Upon this, that hardy little hero appeared, and Lancaster retired. The spectators were uncommonly anxious to witness this set-to, which might be denominated first-rate science against the most determined ruffianism. Scroggins, immediately on shaking hands with his opponent, rushed at him with all the impetuosity of an English bull-dog, and, for three rounds, it was a downright mill with the gloves. Belcher, from the fury of his antagonist, was driven more than once against the rails, and from want of room his science seemed somewhat at a discount. In the fourth, however, Tom began to feel his way with more certainty, faced his opponent sharply with his one-two, on his boring in, and had the best of the round, when Scroggins bowed and took off the gloves; and, although loudly and repeatedly solicited by the spectators to have another round, and particularly by Belcher, he immediately quitted the stage. A slight tint of the claret appeared on both their mugs, but was first visible from the mouth of Scroggins. This little episode, with a man of Scroggins’s character, might reasonably be expected to result in something like a trial without the mufflers, and so it eventually proved. For on the 10th April, 1822, a sporting dinner having taken place at the Castle, Scroggins, who was bacchi plenis, got into a “skrimmage” with Belcher. The little hero would not be denied, and Tom feeling his character for courage touched, cast aside the counsel of discretion, and a mill took place. Twenty minutes ruffianing, boring in, and hard fighting on one side, and scientific administration of punishment on the other, settled the question, and Scroggins was forced to give in. This was a gratuitous and somewhat ill-advised exhibition on the part of Belcher, who needed no such triumph, yet it showed the spirit of the “old war-horse ready for the fray,” was still within him. Tom Belcher was in height about five feet nine inches, weighing nearly eleven stone. His appearance was gentlemanly, and his manners and deportment of the most mild and inoffensive nature, well calculated to prepossess the stranger in his favour; who also found in his company the perfection of the pugilist, unmingled with the coarseness which the ignorant and the prejudiced are too apt to associate with their ideal of every brave boxer. Belcher died at Bristol on the 9th of December, 1854, aged 71 years, universally respected. [Illustration] CHAPTER III. HEN. (OR HENRY) PEARCE, “THE GAME CHICKEN” (CHAMPION)—1803‒1805.