REMARKS.—This affair surprised and delighted the old ring-goers, for all anticipated, from the age of the combatants, that it would be a “muffish” affair, and especially as Ben had never had a very high reputation for game. It was admitted on all hands, however, that few more manly fights had been witnessed, and that no men, considering their capabilities, could have conducted themselves better. There was no cowardly retreating or flinching on either side, nor any of those hugging manœuvres which are so foreign to fair stand-up fighting. We doubt whether “Uncle Ben” ever showed to so much advantage; and, in defeat, he had at least the consolation of having convinced his friends that his pretensions to the character of a “foighting” man were not altogether without foundation. Tom has lost all that fire for which he was formerly distinguished, and of course much of his vigour, for his blows were not delivered with severity; nevertheless, he vindicated his character as a thorough game man, and to that quality his success may be in a great measure ascribed, for the punishment he received, would have more than satisfied many younger men. The betting was not heavy, and those who lost were perfectly satisfied Ben had done his best, both for himself and them. Nature, and not his will, forcing him to say “enough.” This was Tom’s “last bumper at parting” with the active practice of pugilism, though up to a very recent period, when succeeded by his son, Fred. Oliver, the veteran Tom was rarely, despite his periodical visitations of his old enemy the gout, absent from his post whenever the P.R. ropes and stakes were in requisition. The civility, respectful attention, and forbearing good humour (often under circumstances of the utmost provocation) of Oliver we can personally bear testimony to. He was emphatically “the right man in the right place;” even-tempered, firm, obliging, yet undismayed by the most demonstrative of “roughs,” Tom preserved his dignity, and commanded order by his quiet, inoffensive, yet determined mode of doing what he considered to be his “duty.” During his latter years, “Old Tom” vegetated as a fruiterer and greengrocer in Pimlico and Chelsea, where he brought up a family, as a fine specimen of lusty old age, and of the days when we may say of the ring, “there were giants in the land.” Tom finally “threw up the sponge,” June, 1864, at the ripe age of 75. CHAPTER V. BILL NEAT, OF BRISTOL—1818–1823.