6.—Medley’s eye was greatly swollen; he appeared shy, retreated. Sam, however, waited for his coming up, and threw in a violent blow on the face, which re-echoed again; they closed, and Sam threw Medley again. 7.—Sam quite gay, went in, and putting in a most tremendous blow in the breast, brought his opponent down. 8.—Medley bled profusely. Sam was coming in to rally, when Medley knocked him down and laughed at him; but his countenance was ghastly, from the tremendous blows he had received in the face. 9.—Sam appeared angry, ran in, and missed his distance. Medley displayed a great deal of science, but was at last knocked down. 10.—Medley was making play, when Sam knocked him down. 11.—An excellent round, and the longest in the battle. Medley showed weakness, yet he put in a good hit on Sam’s nose, who directly knocked him down. 12.—It would be impossible to describe the spectacle Medley’s face and head exhibited, the blood flowing in all directions. Before any blow was struck Medley fell from weakness. 13.—Medley was again making play, when Sam put in a severe blow in the ribs, and Medley again fell. His side now began to swell. 14.—Sam slipped, but it was thought a trick to gain wind. 16.—Sam went in and rallied. Medley very weak, but gamely bored in upon Sam, who continued plying right and left until Medley fell. Notwithstanding Medley was in this dreadful state, he continued the fight for thirty-three more rounds; but nature being at length exhausted, and his wounds bleeding beyond the skill of his second’s stopping, his brother declared him conquered. Sam in this battle displayed great science, and his mercy to his opponent did him still greater honour. Medley showed game, but his hits were too light for a fighter, being in fact the taps of the sparring school. Sam now resolved to retire from the ring as a principal. He was thirty-five years of age, and had always fought what is termed “up-hill;” that is, men of greater weight and size than himself. It would have been well for him had he adhered to this resolution, as we shall presently see. Five years had elapsed during which Sam’s intemperance was the subject of regret among his acquaintance, when Bill Nosworthy, the baker, a wrestler and boxer of some repute with the “dead men” of the metropolis, offered himself to Sam’s notice; by whom, as we have already said, the poet’s warning was as unheeded as it was probably unknown:—