suddenly, on the 2nd December, 1854, at Buffalo, U.S. Soon after Tass took the money for this victory, his friends injudiciously claimed for him the title of “Champion,” but Tass wisely declined, in a letter, such a prominent position. [21] Spring, after a short illness, died on August 20th, 1851, while this match was in progress. (See vol. ii. chapter 1.) CHAPTER V. NICHOLAS (NICK) WARD. 1835-1841. The claim of Nick Ward to a chapter in a History of the Ring is, though certainly slender, of a twofold character. In the first place, as another and more recently fallen warrior was described as “the nephew of his uncle,” so Nick Ward may be signalised as “the brother of Jem;” the second, and more cogent, reason is the high flight of his ambition, and the consequent eminence of his adversaries, he having beaten Deaf Burke, and, by a fluke, won a fight for the Championship with the modern “Big Ben.” These things premised, we proceed to a brief sketch of his quasi-pugilistic performances. Nick Ward was born on an ominous day, the 1st of April, in the year 1811, in St. George’s-in-the-East, London; and on February 24th, 1835, having previously acquired a reputation in the sparring-schools of the Metropolis, he stripped at Moulsey Hurst, to face John Lockyer, of Cranbrook, a yokel bruiser of about 12st., whose only scored victory was a win with one Bridger, of Maidstone, in February, 1833. Jack Lockyer (named “Harry,” in _Fistiana_, under WARD) was a mere chopping-block in the skilful hands of Nick, his longer-reached and more artistic antagonist; and being “satisfied” at the end of 18 rounds, gave no criterion by which to judge of Young Nick’s game or endurance. It was pretty evident, however, that his brother and friends were not much taken with this initiative display of his qualities, for the next match looked out for Master Nick was with a 11st. man, Jem Wharton (afterwards celebrated as “Young Molyneaux,” and “the Morocco Prince”[22]) for £15 a side. The deposits were made good, and the day, May 12th, 1835, fixed Nick Ward’s backer having won the toss for choice of place (within thirty miles of London) named the well-known Moulsey Hurst as the _champ clos_ of combat. On the appointed Tuesday, the patrons of the fistic art were on the _qui vive_ to witness the tourney between “the brother of the Champion” and the aspiring “Young Molyneaux”――a worthy, albeit a miniature, counterpart of the dusky gladiator of the same name, who, in times gone by, twice fell beneath the all-conquering arm of Cribb, as may be read by those who are curious in the first volume of this work.