REMARKS.—In the eighth round Carter was evidently distressed, and showed he was much out of condition. He had been living freely, and his milling capabilities must have experienced a drawback, by his having a very painful and inflamed leg. In fact, it was rather a surprise match, and the money hastily deposited on the part of Carter when he was not in the most temperate state of understanding. It was a ridiculous wager altogether, and such a man as Robinson appeared to be in this last fight with Carter, would require the tremendous finishing hits of a Cribb to beat the man of colour with anything like a certainty in thirty minutes. The face of Robinson, never an Adonis, was a little spoilt as to its former character, but the light was far from being taken out of him, and in the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth rounds he changed his mode, with an appearance of going to work in earnest. He is not to be vanquished by nobbing hits alone. Could Carter use his right hand in any manner to second his left, few men, it is urged, would be able to stand any length of time before him. He appeared not the least hurt from the conflict in which he had been so recently engaged; and Robinson also was in a wagon viewing the fight between Curtis and Lazarus, with all the indifference of a mere spectator. The Lancashire and Carlisle friends of Carter now rallied round him, and he was at length matched with Oliver. In the metropolis Oliver was everything; and Carter, in opposition to him, only named with derision and contempt. But time, which proveth all things, thus narrates this milling event:—