Martin, originally a baker, and thus of course familiarly known as the "Master of the Rolls," one of the heroes whom all these sporting blades went out to see contend for victory in the ring, died so recently as 1871. He had long retired from the P.R., and had, upon quitting it, followed the usual practice of retired pugilists, that is to say, he became a publican. He was landlord successively of the "Crown" at Croydon, and the "Horns" tavern, Kennington. As for details of this fight or that upon the same spot from which Hickman, "The Gas-Light Man," came off victor, they are not for these pages. How the combatants "fibbed" and "countered," and did other things equally abstruse to the average reader, you may, who care to, read in the pages of the enthusiastic authorities upon the subject, who spare nothing of all the blows given and received. This was fine company for the Heir-apparent to keep at Crawley Downs; but see how picturesque he and the crowds that followed in his wake rendered those times. What diversions went forward on the roads--such roads as they were! One chronicler of a fight here says, in all good faith, that on the morning following the "battle," the remains of several carriages, phaetons, and other vehicles were found bestrewing the narrow ways where they had collided in the darkness. [Sidenote: THE REGENCY] The House of Hanover, which ended with the death of Queen Victoria, was not at any time largely endowed with picturesqueness, saving only in the gruesome picture afforded by the horrid legend which accounts for the family name of Guelph; but the Regent was the great exception. He, at least, was picturesque; and if there be any who choose to deny it, I will ask them how it comes that so many novelists dealing with historical periods have chosen the period of the Regency as so fruitful an era of romance? The Prince endowed his time with a glamour that has lasted, and will continue unimpaired. It was he who gave a devil-me-care connotation to the words "Regent" and "Regency"; and his wild escapades have sufficed to redeem the Georgian Era from the reproach of unrelieved dulness and greasy vulgarity. The reign of George the Third was the culmination of smug and unctuous _bourgeois_ respectability at Court, from whose weary routine the Prince's surroundings were entirely different. Himself and his _entourage_ were dissolute indeed, roystering, drinking, cursing, dicing, visiting prize-fights on these Downs of Crawley, and hail-fellow-well-met with the blackguards there gathered together. But whatever his surroundings, they were never dull, for which saving grace many sins may be excused him.