That this was not, at that time, of a very serious nature may be inferred from the fact, that the Deaf’un finished up 1829 by balancing this, his only defeat, with yet another victory. On December 1st all the pugilistic world was on the move into Sussex to witness the great (second) fight between Ned Neale and Young Dutch Sam for £220 to £200, which came to nought, owing to the arrest of Neale on his way to the battle-field on a warrant issued by Mr. Chambers. Sore was the disappointment and loud the complaints of the hundreds who had left London on this hog-shearing expedition, as they surrounded the admirably formed ring at North Chapel, Sussex, and were told that there would be “no fight,” as Messrs. Ruthven and Pople, two “active and intelligent officers,” as the penny-a-liners styled them, had grabbed Neale, and were so strict in their attentions that they had declined to lose sight of him; indeed, they had at once carried him off in a postchaise to the great Metropolis. Harry Holt stepped forward, and addressing “the inner circle and boxes” (the latter represented by several four-in-hand drags and hired wagons), proposed “a collection.” Sam also presented himself amidst applause, rattling some coin in a hat. The money-matter was soon arranged, a big countryman named Girdler stepping into the ropes, and laying claim to the guerdon against all comers. In a few seconds the well-known, hardy mug of the Deaf’un was seen as he made his way through the crowd, and, amidst some cheering, declared that “he didn’t minds a shy at that chaps, if he did lose his sticks,” while Girdler, who had many country friends, said with a grin, “He knowed all about Mister Burke, and didn’t care a varden for ’un.” To give éclat to the affair, Jem Ward and Fogo offered themselves to second the Deaf’un, whereon Young Sam and Cicero Holt volunteered to wait upon the countryman. THE FIGHT. Round 1.――Girdler was certainly, as Sam said, “big enough for anything,” and when be threw his hands up, did it in a style that showed he was not the mere yokel he had been supposed. The Deaf’un looked as serious and as stolid as a pig in a pound, and as solid as a stump of a tree. He nodded at his opponent, and pointed down to the scratch, to which Girdler at once advanced, and the Deaf’un went a step back smiling. Girdler let fly his left; it was a little too high, but just reached the Deaf’un’s nut, who returned on Girdler’s cheek sharply; heavy exchanges, in which Burke hit oftenest and last, and both were down on hands and knees. (6 to 4 on the Deaf’un.)