On the production of Tom and Jerry at the Royalty Theatre, Mr. Davidge, the acting manager, went down to Bristol to engage Neat, at £30 per week, and a benefit, in order to induce him to come to London for a month. Hickman was also engaged; but not upon such high terms, in consequence of his residing near the theatre. The exhibition of the Art of Self-defence answered the manager’s purpose, and good houses were the result of this speculation; but it was more like fighting than setting-to. The Gas-light Man could not, or would not, play light; yet he frequently complained of the bruised state of his arms in stopping the heavy hits of his opponent. As a proof of his irritable state of mind, Hickman bolted on the night of his benefit, not thinking the house so good at an early part of the evening as it ought to be, and supposing that he should be money out of pocket. Mr. Callahan, in the absence of the Gas-light Man, set-to with Neat. It, however, appeared that the house improved afterwards, and that Hickman’s share would have been nearly £20. When perfectly sober, Hickman was a quiet, well-behaved, and really a good-natured fellow; but at times, when overcome with liquor, he was positively frightful, nay, mad. It was in one of those moments of frenzy that he struck old Joe Norton, in Belcher’s coffee-room, merely for differing with him in opinion. Like Hooper, the tinman, Hickman had been spoiled by his patron, who made him his companion. That Hickman was angry about losing his fame there is not the least doubt; and he must have felt it severely after boasting at the Fives Court that “the Gas should never go out!” In his fits of intemperance and irritation, he often asserted that he had received more money for losing than Neat did by winning the battle. We now come to his melancholy death. Hickman, accompanied by a friend, left his house early on Tuesday morning, the 10th of December, 1822, to witness the fight between Hudson and Shelton, at Harpenden Common, near St. Alban’s. He was in excellent health and spirits during the battle, walking about the ground with a whip in his hand, in conversation with Mr. Rowe. At the conclusion of the battle he returned to St. Alban’s, where he made but a short stay, and then proceeded on his journey to London. On returning home in the evening Hickman drove, and endeavoured to pass a road wagon on the near side of the road instead of the off side. Whether from unskilful driving, the darkness of the night, or some other cause, in clearing the wagon the chaise was overturned, and, dreadful to relate, both were precipitated under the wheels, which went over their heads. Hickman was killed instantaneously: his brains were scattered on the road, and his head nearly crushed to atoms. Mr. Rowe seemed to have some animation, but was soon dead. Randall had parted with them at South Mimms shortly before, and stated that they were both sober.