Round 1.――Crawley stood over the Deaf’un by at least three inches, and topped him in weight by about a stone. He was, indeed, a fine muscular specimen of humanity, though some critical anatomists pronounced him too thick about the shoulder-blades, and, therefore, what is technically termed “shoulder-tied,” a defect which detracts both from the distance and the quickness of a man’s blows. The Deaf’un’s solid, trunk-of-tree look, was by this time familiar to all ring-goers, as he stood with his comparatively short arms, the left slightly in advance, and the right across covering his side and mark. Crawley lost no time in letting his adversary know his “little game,” for in he went, swinging out his left arm rather than hitting straight, and following it with a lunge with the right, both of which would have been ugly visitations had they got well home; but the first was stopped, and the second only just reached the Deaf’un’s ribs as he shifted ground; Crawley followed up his charge with more round hits, or rather misses, in exchange for which the Deaf’un, getting within his guard, hit up so sharply, the right on Tim’s eye and the left on his mouth, that he paused a moment before he renewed his hitting out. The Deaf’un had broke away, and now led Mister Tim a short dance round the ring, during which he propped the big ’un several times. Crawley lost his temper, and made a furious grab at Burke with his open right hand, catching him round the neck, when, to the surprise of all, the Deaf’un, throwing his arms round Crawley’s waist and butting him in the breast with his head, heeled him and threw him a clear back fall, adding his own weight to the concussion, which would have been far more serious but for the fact that the ground was about the consistency of a half-baked Yorkshire pudding. (2 to 1 on Burke.) 2.――Crawley came up with his face painted the colour of the sign of the “Red Lion,” and the claim of first blood for the Deaf’un was admitted. Tim was, however, nothing daunted, and smiled contemptuously at his opponent, who nodded his nob in reply. At it again went Tim, in the style which we at a later day recognised as peculiar to Ben Caunt, whom Crawley (though better looking and not so tall) much resembled in his bust and mode of hitting. The onslaught was again but partially successful, the Deaf’un hitting up at close quarters with unusual precision, while Mister Tim pummelled away, often at the back of Burke’s head, neck, and shoulders, until they closely embraced, when the Deaf’un got his man down somehow.