Of which rhymes we can conscientiously say the anonymous “brother pugilist” of Ben need not have been ashamed; for far worse have been written on marble by “unco’ guid folk” who would scorn to bestow a glance on the grave of a boxer. END OF PERIOD I. PERIOD II.—1784‒1798. FROM THE APPEARANCE OF DANIEL MENDOZA TO THE FIRST BATTLE OF JEM BELCHER. CHAPTER I. DANIEL MENDOZA—1784‒1820.[51] The conveniences of the plan of a biographical history the editor flatters himself are by this time sufficiently obvious to the reader: the index of names and of events at the end of the volume, and the grouping of the memoirs into Periods, bringing the men who contended their most important battles with each other into close companionship in our pages. As the introducer of a new, a more rapid, and more elegant style of boxing, and a more artistic _tactique_, the Israelitish champion Mendoza deserves the distinction of heading a division of followers and pupils. Accordingly we begin with his pugilistic career, to be succeeded by those of his clever antagonists, Richard Humphries and Mr. John Jackson, Bill Warr, Tom Owen, Paddington (Tom) Jones, etc., with Stanyard, George Ingleston, Fewterel, and many minor stars in the Appendix, and in foot-notes, where their conflicts with more distinguished boxers have preserved their names from oblivion. DANIEL MENDOZA, one of the most elegant and scientific boxers recorded in the annals of pugilism, was born in the year 1763, of Jewish parents, in the vicinity of Whitechapel. Of his earlier years nothing worthy of record is known. His first noted pugilistic contest took place at Mile End, in 1784, with a big rough, known by the name of Harry the Coalheaver. Dan appears to have polished off this black diamond in forty minutes—at least, so says “Boxiana;” yet so far from being drawn from his regular employment and pursuits by this triumph, his name does not figure until 1787. Shortly after, Dan rose like a phenomenon in the fistic horizon, where he long sparkled a star of the first magnitude. His advent was unquestionably a new feature in the practice of the art, and his style of fighting gave rise to much controversy and animadversion among the cognoscenti.[52] So far as it was illustrated in his own practice, it was substantial and complete; and it may be candidly allowed that whenever Mendoza failed, it was rather from insufficient muscular strength, and being overmatched in weight, than any deficiency of skill or courage. It has been contended that there was more elegance about his positions than strength, and more show than utility. No pugilist ever stopped with greater neatness, hit oftener, or put in his blows quicker, than Mendoza; but they often failed in doing that execution which might have been expected from want of force. In