27 and last.――The odds were the Great Glass-case of ’51 against a cucumber-frame. The Tipton gave Master Paddock a pelt on the head, and began punching at him among his bottles and traps at the corner stake. Paddock dropped, and the Tipton, fearing to give a chance away, was about to return to his own corner, as he had several times done when up jumped the Redditch man, and rushing at the Slasher, lent him such a dig just at the back of the left ear, with his right, that down tumbled Tipton, half with astonishment, half with the blow, and, as Paddy would say, “the third half of him fell just because it was not used to stand upright.” A more palpable “foul” was never seen. The spectators jumped from their seats, and all sorts of people got into the ring. The Tipton walked towards the referee for his decision, and that functionary pronounced it “foul;” and so ended the great little fight for the Championship, in forty-two minutes, the dial showing twelve minutes after five. REMARKS.――A Scotch proverb declares―― “It’s muckle cry, and little woo, As the de’il said, when he clipt the soo;” and this exhibition was certainly a complete “pig-shearing” excursion. The Slasher was not only in splendid condition, but his method of fighting, long arms, and great experience, made it no match. True, he was not to blame that it was so bad a fight, for as one man can take a horse to water, but twenty can’t make him drink, so let a man be ever so willing to make a merry mill of it, he can’t do so, if his opponent won’t have it. As to Paddock, he was so manifestly over-matched, and over-rated, that he had not the shadow of a chance; and the rush that proved perilous to Bendigo――old, stale, under 12 stone, and a practiser of retreating tactics――was not only useless against the bulky, firm-standing Slasher, but was certain destruction to the assailant, from the Tipton’s tact at countering, his superior strength, and immense weight. In fact, it was “a horse to a hen” on all points.