20.――Parker made play, and getting a little nearer, dropped his bunch of fives on the Tipton’s mouth; tried it again, but fell short, and got a left-handed nobber in return that floored him neatly. 21.――Both Tass’s hands seemed to have lost their cunning. His heart was not big enough to carry him in, nor, when there by accident, to allow him to stand a rally. He fought badly and out of distance, and at length scrambled down to avoid the resolute charge of the Slasher, who gave him a nasty one on the side of the nut as he was on his journey to earth. 22.――Perry drove his man all across the ring. Some pretty exchanges. Parker got home on Tipton’s dial, who missed the return. A short, irregular rally. Tass again got in once or twice, but they seemed mere taps. At length the Slasher, who had been screwing himself up, sent out his left straight as an arrow at his opponent’s head. The concussion was like the kick of a coach-horse, took effect at the base of Parker’s left nostril, and he fell as if shot. “It’s all over,” was the cry; and the Tipton remained for some time in the middle of the ring to favour the company with a few polka steps, for which his swing leg was peculiarly adapted. 23 and last.――Tass, to the astonishment of all, came up at the call of time, but it was evident the last hit had been a settler and had sent his faculties all abroad. Although he assumed an attitude, he stared perplexedly at his opponent, and swerved from the perpendicular as he broke ground. The Tipton surveyed him a moment before he stepped forward, but no sooner did Tass perceive his approach, than, either from bewilderment or a faint heart, he fell forward on both knees, and thence on his hands. The Slasher turned appealingly to the umpires and referee, without having even offered to strike. The case was clear; and amid the shouts of the multitude the Slasher was greeted as the conqueror. Time, twenty-seven minutes.