English bare-knuckle boxer.
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Also known as: Jem Burn.
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Burial: 5 June 1863
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[1] Pugilistica - The History of British Boxing - Vol. 2
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/61649/61649-h/61649-h.htm

The sobriquet "My Nevvy" with old ring-goers long survived the sponsor (Uncle Ben), who first bestowed it upon his protégé on introducing Jem Burn to the P. R., an event which took place in 1824.

Jem first saw the light at Darlington, in the county of Durham, twenty years previous—namely, on the 15th March, 1804—and was in due time apprenticed to a skinman (vulgo, a "skiver") at Newcastle-on-Tyne. We need not say that Jem came of a fighting stock—both his uncles, "Big Bob" and "Ben" being well known within and without the twenty-four-foot roped square miscalled the "ring;" the latter at this period being the popular host of the "Rising Sun," in Windmill Street, Piccadilly, in after years the domicile of "Jolly Jem" himself.

Now the fame of his muscular relatives had reached the remote northern residence of Jem, and, like Norval, "he had read of battles, and he longed to follow to the field some warlike chief;" so, having tried "his 'prentice han'" on a north country bruiser of some local fame, hight Gibson, he, like other aspiring spirits, looked towards the great Metropolis for a wider field for the exercise of his talents.

It is recorded that Jem's battle with Gibson was a severe one, occupying one hour and twenty minutes; and that in another bout with a boxer named Jackson, a resolute fellow, Jem, in a two hours' encounter, displayed such quickness and ability as to spread his fame throughout the district.

Brown, a twelve stone wrestler, with some fistic pretensions, challenged "Young Skiver," as his comrades then called him. In twenty-five minutes he found out his mistake, retiring from the ring with second honours, while Jem was comparatively without a mark.

As a matter of course, on his arrival in London Jem made his way to Uncle Ben's, where he was received with a hearty welcome, had the run of a well-stocked larder, and was soon hailed as a "morning star" of the first magnitude, and fit herald of new glories to the "Rising Sun."

Uncle Ben lost no time in presenting "My Nevvy" to the Corinthian patrons of his "crib;" and as Jem was certainly clever with the mufflers, stood five feet ten in his shoes, with good arms, no lack of confidence, and great youthful activity and dash, he was looked upon as a likely aspirant, at no distant day, for the championship of England, recently vacated by the accomplished Tom Spring, after his two fights with Langan.

The friends of Uncle Ben, however, were too prudent to risk Jem's opening prospects by matching him with a first-class professional. At this period there was an immense immigration of heavy "Patlanders," chiefly viâ Liverpool, of whom Pierce Egan was the literary Mæcenas, and Jack Langan the M.C. Among them was one styled "Big O'Neal," who must not be confounded with the "Streatham Youth," Ned, whose name, for some time, Pierce insisted on printing with the national prefix "O'," though he expunged it from the fifth volume of "Boxiana," and on his presentation cup.

Articles were drawn for the modest figure of £25 a-side, witnessed by Langan and Uncle Ben, and the day and place fixed for the 26th of July, 1824, within fifty miles of London. At the appointed time the men met at Chertsey Bridge, near Staines. O'Neal, attended by Langan and Peter Crawley, first threw his hat into the ring, and "My Nevvy" soon followed suit, esquired by Tom Owen and Uncle Ben—so that all six, principals and seconds, were emphatically "big 'uns." The Irishman was the favourite, at six to four, his fame having "gone before him." The colours, a green bandanna for O'Neal, and a chocolate with light blue spot for Burn, having been tied to the stakes, the men lost no time in peeling, and stood up at a few minutes past one for

THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On stripping, it was any odds in favour of O'Neal; it was a horse to a hen by comparison; indeed, some said that it was a shame for Ben Burn to have matched his nephew against a man of such superior weight. "The young one can foight a bit, I know, and we'll soon tell'ee all aboot it," replied Ben. Burn went to work with considerable judgment, held up his hands well, shifting round cleverly, and milling on the retreat, Cribb's favourite mode. Burn put in two nobbers, and got well away; when O'Neal, like novices in general, kept following his opponent all over the ring, napping punishment at every step, till the Young One was bored upon the corner of the ropes, when he dropped. (Loud shouting for Burn; and "My Uncle quite proud of his nephew.")

2.—O'Neal wiped his peeper; in fact, he had received a nasty one between his ogles, that had placed them on the winking establishment. Burn was a little too fast. He stepped in to draw his man, when Pat met him with a smart jobber on his nose, which convinced the North Country Sprig that he must avoid O'Neal's clumsy fist as much as possible, or his fine science might be of little service to him. O'Neal made a hit, but Burn returned the blow with interest. The Sprig 328kept the ring well, and Pat was compelled to run all over the ground to make a blow. Burn went down from a slight hit.

3.—The mug of O'Neal was altered a little; the claret was streaming down from his temple, and his right eye was damaged. Burn fought in great style; he made a number of good hits without any return. The Irishman was bothered: he got a lick every now and then, and he looked about him, as much as to say, "Where the devil did that polt come from?" Burn finished the round by going down.

4–10.—In all these rounds, except the last, Burn had the "best of it;" and it was evident, if his strength stayed with him, he could not lose the battle, but he was getting weak. Burn was hit cleanly down. ("That's the way," said Langan. "Do that again, and I can make money by you, if it is only to floor oxen for the butchers.")

11–15.—The nob of O'Neal was sadly disfigured, and he was almost a blinker. He gave every chance away, instead of fighting his opponent. ("Long Bowls," said the Sage of the East, who was close to the ring, "will never do for a novice, especially when he has got weight on his side. O'Neal ought to be placed close to his man, and told to hit out, and never leave off till he has put the gilt on his antagonist.") Burn, after bestowing all the pepper he was able to on O'Neal's face, went down weak.

16–20.—The gameness of O'Neal could not be questioned; and although so bad a fighter, he was backed as a favourite on account of his strength. He got Burn down, and fell heavily upon him.

21–25.—The last round was the best contested during the battle; the Irishman, though nearly blind, administered some heavy hits, and finally knocked Burn down.

26.—It was anybody's battle at this period. Burn was getting extremely weak, and O'Neal in such a dizzy state that he threw most of his blows away. The fighting of Burn was highly praised; he planted three or four nobbers on the old places; but the Yorkshire Youth was hit down.

27–30.—O'Neal was nearly in the dark, and Burn nobbed him as he thought proper; in fact, the Irishman was completely at the mercy of the fists of his opponent. O'Neal went down in a state of stupor, and Langan could scarcely get him up. ("Take the game fellow away!")

31.—O'Neal was quite abroad—he could not see his opponent, and, in making a hit at the air, stumbled forward on the ground.

32, and last.—On time being called, O'Neal left his second's knee, and turned away from the scratch. He was completely blind. Over in fifty minutes. Langan gave in for him.

Remarks.—Great credit is due to young Burn, not only for the pluck he manifested throughout the battle, but the science he displayed, and the mode he persevered in to win the battle. We never saw better judgment displayed upon any occasion. It may be urged, we are well aware, that he had nothing to fight against but weight: yet, if that weight had been brought up to him on setting to every round, there was a great probability that that weight would have so reduced his exertions as to have prevented young Jem from proving the conqueror. He ought not to be overmatched again. O'Neal did all that a brave man could do. He proved himself an excellent taker, and there is some merit even in that quality belonging to a man who enters the P. R. We have seen several fine fighters who do not possess the taking part of milling, but who have been most liberal in giving handfuls of punishment to their opponents; but to give and not receive is one of the secrets of prize-fighting. We never saw a man more interested in the success of another, or exert himself more, than Langan on the part of O'Neal; but O'Neal is not of the stuff of which clever pugilists are made.

Sir Bellingham Graham, who viewed the contest, was so pleased with the exertions and courage of Jem Burn that he made the young pugilist a present of five sovereigns.

Jem was matched by Uncle Ben against Martin (the well-known "Master of the Rolls") for £300 a-side. This match was to have been decided on Thursday, October 26th, 1824, and was looked for with anxiety, as the goodness and skill of Martin were well established.

On the day appointed the cavalcade had reached Staines, when part of the secret was let out, that "it would be no fight between Martin and Jem Burn." Upwards of an hour having elapsed in consultation, the mob started off to Laleham, to take a peep at the ring. It was ascertained at Laleham that Martin would not show; but in the midst of the doubts a 329magistrate appeared. Luckily for the backers of the Master of the Rolls, this circumstance saved their blunt, otherwise the stakes must have been forfeited to Jem Burn. Something wrong evidently had been intended; but that wrong could not be performed so as to deceive the amateurs of pugilism, and therefore the fight did not take place. Jem Burn threw his hat into the ring, declared he meant to fight a fair battle, and demanded the battle-money. This, however, was contrary to agreement, as the magistrate remained, and declared he would not allow a breach of the peace.

Jem was backed against Aby Belasco, to fight on the 18th of November, 1824, but the stakes were drawn by the consent of both parties. This was in consequence of a meeting at which Ned Neale offered himself to "My Uncle's" notice, who thought this a better match. Articles were drawn and signed for Jem to do battle with Neale for £100 a-side; to come off on Tuesday, December 19th, 1824, on Moulsey Hurst. After an obstinate contest of thirty-one rounds, occupying one hour and thirty-eight minutes, Jem was defeated, as related in our last chapter.

Our hero was next matched with Phil Sampson for £50 a-side. This battle took place at Shere Mere, in Bedfordshire, on Tuesday, June 14th, 1825. Jem did all that a brave man could to win the battle, and his backers were perfectly satisfied with his conduct; but, after twenty-three rounds, occupying one hour and ten minutes, Burn again sustained defeat.

Jem stood so well in the opinion of his friends, notwithstanding he had lost his two last battles, that he was matched against Pat Magee for £100 a-side. Magee, in Liverpool, was patronised by the fancy of that place, but he was only known by name in milling circles in the Metropolis. He had beaten a rough commoner of the name of Boscoe, a fine young man of amazing strength, and a tremendous hard hitter with his right hand; but, in a second contest, Magee had surrendered his laurels in turn to Boscoe. Such was the history of the Irish hero, Magee. It was asserted, however, that he had recently made great improvement as a boxer, and as he was determined to have a shy with a London pugilist, he was backed against Jem Burn.

It was agreed the mill should take place between London and Liverpool; but the backers of Magee having won the toss, it gave them the advantage of twenty miles in their favour, and Lichfield race-course was selected as the place for the trial of skill. A more delightful situation could not have been chosen; from the windows of the Race Stand the prospect was truly picturesque and interesting.

On Tuesday morning, July 25th, 1826, the road from Birmingham to Lichfield exhibited some stir of the provincial fancy; and although the races at Derby and Knutsford and the Nottingham Cricket Match might have operated as drawbacks to the spectators at the fight, not less than six thousand persons were present.

On Monday evening, Burn and his uncle took up their abode at the Swan Inn, in the city of Lichfield; Magee and his friends patronised the "Three Crowns." The ring was well made, and everything conducted throughout with the most perfect order. Randall, Oliver, Sampson, Dick Curtis, Ned Neale, Fuller, Barney Aaron, Young Gas, Fogo, Harry Holt, Tom Gaynor, and Arthur Mathewson, appeared on the ground to render their assistance to the combatants. The swells in the Grand Stand were admitted at the low figure of six shillings per head. Previous to the combatants appearing in the ring, it was whispered that two men, "dressed in a little brief authority," were in attendance to stop the fight; but this matter was soon disposed of, and made "all right," when Jem Burn threw his castor into the ring, attended by Tom Belcher and Phil. Sampson. In a few minutes afterwards, Magee, arm-in-arm with Donovan and Boscoe, also repeated the token of defiance, by planting his pimple-coverer in the ropes. The colours were yellow for Burn and green for Magee, which were tied to the stakes. The odds were six to four on Jem. Burn weighed twelve stone one pound, and Magee thirteen stone five pounds. Donovan won the toss for the latter boxer, when hands were shaken in friendship, and the battle commenced.

THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On stripping, Magee reminded us of Ned Painter. Magee was in excellent condition; but some friends thought him rather too fat. The comparison between the combatants was obvious to every one present. Burn looked thin and boyish before his opponent; but, nevertheless, he had been well trained, and no fault was found with him by his backers. Magee, at the scratch, planted himself in a fighting attitude, kept up his hands well, and was not the novice that had been anticipated by the Londoners. He had been for some time under the tuition of Jack Randall in Ireland; and by the advice and practice with such a master Magee must have profited a good deal as to an acquirement of science and hitting. Pat made play, after a little dodging about with his right and left hands, but he was out of distance from the leariness of Burn, and nothing was the matter. Jem was extremely cautious, looked upon his opponent as a dangerous customer, and the hit he made alighted slightly on Magee's canister; but the latter countered without any effect. A tiny pause, and both on the look-out for squalls. Pat, quite alive to the thing, planted a blow under the left eye of Burn, which produced a small drop of claret. Donovan quite elated, exclaimed, "First blood!" Both now went to work, and Magee bored Jem to the ropes; here a blow or two was exchanged, when Burn went down. Pat viewed the circumstance for a second, and then fell upon his opponent.—Disapprobation was expressed by the spectators, but Donovan said, "Magee could not help it."

2.—Burn with much dexterity planted a body blow, and got away. Some sparring, when Jem returned the compliment for Pat's favour in the last round, and drew the claret from Magee. Both of the men were on their mettle; but it appeared that Magee 331was the stronger man. A sharp rally occurred, and Pat's left ogle napped it. Magee, however, bored Burn to the ropes, where he went down, and Magee fell upon him with his knees upon the abdomen, which operated so severely that he uttered a loud groan.—Loud expressions of disapprobation—"foul fighter," &c.

3.—Jem appeared at the scratch in pain, and extremely weak; Magee, too, exhibited symptoms of "bellows to mend." Sharp work for a short time, the blows telling on both sides, when Jem was compelled to retreat to the ropes, where he fell with his back upon the ropes. In this situation, Magee with all his weight lay upon him; and the struggle was so great for the advantage that Randall exclaimed, "Burn's eye is out." The claret was pouring from his peeper. (Cries of "shame"—hisses—and a tremendous uproar in all parts of the ring.) Jem, after extreme difficulty, extricated himself from his perilous situation, and with much skill planted a conker on his adversary. In closing, both down; Magee uppermost.

4.—A pause. An exchange of hits and another pause. Well done on both sides. The science of Jem gave him the advantage; but his extreme caution in several instances operated as a drawback. Magee went in with much spirit, and Burn went down with a slight hit. ("That's the way, my boy; try it again, Magee, and you can't lose it," from his Irish friends.)

5.—Pat fought this round with much ability. He stopped well, and was successful in planting his blows. A sharp rally; and at the ropes Magee had the best of it, punishing Burn till he went down. ("It is all your own," cried Donovan.)

6.—This round was soon over. Magee stopped very neatly a left-handed blow, and obtained the praise of Randall. Burn in planting a facer appeared weak, and slipped down.

7.—Magee was in full force, and bored Burn to the ropes. In close quarters, some sharp fighting occurred, till the nob of Jem was under the cords, and he was screwed up tight by his opponent. Burn ultimately succeeded in getting away, and with much quickness put in two facers. Magee was almost wild, and he ran at his opponent like a bull, forcing him again to the ropes till "My Nevvy" went down.

8.—Magee stopped the left hand of his adversary extremely well, but Jem at length had the best of it. As Magee bored in he gave him a tremendous teazer on his ivories, which operated as a stopper for a short period. Magee, full of game, was not to be deterred, and pursued his opponent to the ropes, till Burn went down.

9.—In the minds of several of the spectators the battle did not appear so safe to Jem as had been anticipated. Magee, in this round, fought with skill and spirit, and stopped and countered his man well. Jem nobbed Magee right and left; a sharp rally took place, when Jem went down rather weak.

10.—Burn was out of wind, and endeavoured to get a little time by sparring. Pat made play with his adversary, and Jem retreated to the ropes, when he fell on his knees. Pat lifted up his hands, and was loudly applauded for his conduct.

11.—Jem was extremely cautious, in fact, rather too cautious, as in retreating from his adversary several of his blows were ineffectual. The right ogle of Magee received so severe a hit that he was again on the wild system, and pushed Jem to the ropes. As the latter was balancing, Magee fell on him, and with his knees hurt Burn severely. (A tremendous roar of disapprobation; "shame! shame! cowardly!" &c. &c.) Jem ultimately fell on the grass, and Magee upon him, and his face appeared full of anguish. Belcher complained to the umpires of the conduct of Magee.

12.—Burn was in great distress, from the conduct he had experienced in the last round, nevertheless he endeavoured to do some mischief. The nob of Magee was again peppered, although he made several good stops. In a rally, both of the men were bang up to the mark, till Jem went down.

13.—Burn appeared to be rather better, and went to work without delay, but Magee stopped his left hand. Burn pinked his opponent with dexterity, and retreated. Magee always forced Jem to the extremity of the ring, as if to obtain the superiority. Burn was now in a dangerous situation; his neck was on the ropes, and Magee, with all his weight, upon his frame. (Loud cries of "foul! foul!" and hissing from every part of the ring. Several of the fighting men were round the combatants, but none dared to interfere, as Burn was in a balancing situation on the ropes.) Jem, quite exhausted, fell to the ground, and he was placed on his second's knee almost in a state of stupor.

14.—The friends of Burn were now in a state of alarm, lest the repeated pulling and hauling he received at the ropes should take the fight out of him, as Jem came up to the scratch in a tottering state. Magee, by the advice of Donovan, went to work without delay, but Jem met him in the middle of the head like a shot. Magee, however, was not to be deterred, and rushed upon his opponent in a furious state, and drove him to the ropes, at which Jem got out of his difficulties and went down like an experienced milling cove.

15.—In this round the fighting of Jem was seen to great advantage. He put in three facers without any return, till the strength of Magee compelled him to retreat. Magee again fell upon Burn, and more disapprobation was expressed by the spectators.

16.—The blows Jem had received were "trifles light as air," compared with the injuries he had sustained upon the ropes. 332"My nevvy" was recovering a little, and Magee soon found it out by the pepper-box being administered upon his nob. Some good fighting occurred on both sides, until Magee endeavoured, as usual, to finish the round at the ropes. Once more Jem was at the mercy of his adversary, by hanging across the ropes; but unlike the days of the "Game Chicken," who exclaimed, when he found Belcher in a defenceless state, "Jem, I will not hurt thee!" and walked away, Magee threw the whole weight of his person on him, and was also not nice as to the use of his knee. (Disapprobation, and "the foulest fighter that ever was seen.")

17.—This was a short round, and although Burn was the weaker of the two, yet he pinked his adversary to advantage. Magee's nob exhibited considerable punishment, but it is right to say of him that he never flinched from any blows; he also stopped the left hand of Burn with good science. Jem had the best of the round, and was fast improving in the opinion of his friends.

18.—Burn was now decidedly the hero of the tale—"He'll win it now," was the general cry. It was ditto, ditto, ditto, and ditto, as to facers upon Magee's pimple, and then Jem got away without return. Magee seemed abroad, and in a wild manner ran after Burn to the ropes, but Jem got safely down.

19.—"My Nevvy" went gaily to work, and "my uncle" said, "Jem Burn for £100." Magee napped a severe body blow, but he returned a rum one for it. Magee also hit Jem down in style—the only knock-down blow in the battle. (Donovan observed, "Pat, see what you have done—you have almost finished him: another round and it is all your own.")

20.—Jem had now reduced the "big one" to his own weight, and had also placed him upon the stand-still system. Magee, on setting-to, stopped the left hand of Burn, but, on endeavouring to rush in and bore his opponent to the ropes, he received such a stopper on the mouth that he almost felt whether his head was left upon his shoulders. Pat wildly again attempted the boring system, and in retreating from his adversary Jem fell down: Magee also went down with his knees upon his opponent, amidst one of the most tremendous bursts of disapprobation that ever occurred in the P. R.

21.—The case was now altered: Jem Burn the stronger man. "Bellows to mend" upon the other leg, and Pat in trouble. Burn peppered away right and left, until Magee was as wild as a colt. He pursued Burn to the ropes, when he again hung upon him. ("Shame!" hisses, &c.)

22.—The finish was clearly in view, and Pat was nobbed against his will. Magee was distressed and piping, when Jem, on the alert, punished him right and left. Magee again bored his adversary to the ropes, and also fell upon him.

23, and last.—Magee was quite abroad, when Belcher said, "Go to work and put the finish to it." Jem took the hint, and slashed away right and left a good one. Every step Pat moved he got into some trouble, and Jem continually meeting him on the head, as he was boring forward. Pat became quite furious, and rushed in scarcely knowing what he was about, and having got Jem upon the ropes, he caught hold of him in a foul manner. It is impossible to describe the row and indignation which burst forth from all parts of the ring at the unmanly conduct of Magee. An appeal was immediately made to the umpires by the seconds: the umpires disagreeing on the subject, the matter in dispute was left for the referee, who decided the conduct of Magee to be foul, and contrary to the established rules of fighting. The seconds of Magee insisted upon renewing the fight, and declared they should claim their money if Burn left the ring; but Belcher took Jem out of the ring, observing at the same time his man had won the battle, yet he would instantly back him if they would commence another fight.

Remarks.—Had not this wrangle taken place, we have not the least doubt that Burn would have been proclaimed the victor in less than half-a-dozen more rounds: as Jem had "got" his man, who only wanted polishing off, which "My Nevvy" would have done in an artist-like manner. Magee is a game man, and better acquainted with the science of milling, as far as stopping and hitting goes, than the cockneys had anticipated; but as a boxer he is one of the foulest fighters we ever saw in the P. R. If any apology can be offered for his conduct in this, we hope it will be imputed to his ignorance of the rules of boxing as established by Broughton, rather than to intention. The referee not only acted with promptness, but his decision ought to have a good effect, by making boxers more careful in future.

The victorious Jem partook of a hearty dinner at the "Swan" at Lichfield, in the evening. He declared himself none the worse for Mr. Magee's fistic visitations, but sore from the pulling and hauling he got while being hugged at the ropes.

Burn now rested upon his laurels for a few months, and during this 333interval, in the autumn of 1826, he took unto himself a spouse, in the person of Miss Caroline Watson, daughter of Bob Watson, of Bristol, of milling fame, who was brother-in-law to Tom Belcher.

The honeymoon had scarcely waned when the friends of Ned Baldwin ("White-headed Bob") made another sort of "proposal" to jolly Jem. It was that he should box their man for £100 at his own convenience. Jem placed the matter in the hands of Uncle Ben, and April 24th, 1827, was set down in the articles, for Jem to meet another sort of "best man" than that of a bridegroom.

During the three months from signing Baldwin was decidedly the favourite, at six to four, as Jem had taken a public (the "Red Horse," in Bond Street), besides (though he was never a heavy drinker) being a sought-for chairman and companion at Uncle Ben's and elsewhere. Tom Belcher, however, took Jem in hand as mentor and trainer, and this was a great point—while on the night before the battle a gent at Tattersall's took Burn for a "cool thousand" at evens.

The road to St. Albans on Tuesday, the 24th April, 1827, was thronged with vehicles, No Man's Land, Herts, on the borders of three counties, being the rendezvous. Baldwin, with his mentor, Tom Cribb, took the road from his training quarters at Hurley Bottom, and reached St. Alban's overnight; while Jem remained at Kitte's End, near Barnet, where he had taken his breathings for some weeks previous. Jem's weight was twelve stone eight pounds; Baldwin's, twelve stone ten pounds.

The morning was cheerless and stormy, but this did not damp the spirits either of spectators or combatants; and shortly before one o'clock the veteran Commissary, Ould Caleb, having completed his arrangements, Jem Burn, attended by Tom Belcher and Harry Harmer, threw his white castor inside the ropes. He looked the picture of health, youth (his age twenty-three), and smiling good humour, and was warmly cheered. Baldwin quickly followed, Tom Cribb and Ned Neale (his late antagonist) being his seconds. The operation of peeling soon took place, and the active condition of the men attracted all eyes. Bob looked full of muscular power, but was thin in proportion to Jem. His countenance did not exhibit that florid glow which characterised Jem's, nor did we recognise that confidence which his previous declarations betokened. Jem had the advantage in height and length, and on shaking hands it was clear that he had screwed his courage to the sticking-place. It was all or nothing with him, and he advanced like a man about to play for his last stake.

The seconds and bottle-holders all agreed to stake colours against colours, which were all tied to the stakes, and at the moment of setting-to, Ned Neale bet, and Tom Belcher took, six to four on Bob.

THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Baldwin placed himself with great coolness in front of his antagonist, as if prepared more for defence than attack, while Jem seemed all anxiety to begin. A very few seconds were occupied in sparring, when Jem went to work upon the hay-sack[50] system; he hit out with quickness with his left, and caught Bob slightly, a sort of half-hit; his right then went out with great activity and force, and alighting on Bob's cranium, dropped him cleverly, amidst loud cheers.

2.—Ned came up smiling, but Jem left him no time for reflection, for he again went to work left and right. The former was stopped, but the latter came in contact with Baldwin's muzzle, and again floored him, while it loosened his grinders and drew first blood. More acclamations in favour of Jem. Bob looked both surprised and alarmed. The odds were now five to four on Jem.

3.—Ned, on coming up, was bleeding from the mouth, and his phiz was a good deal flushed. He again assumed a posture of defence, but Jem had no intention to spar. Mischief was his maxim, and to it he went left and right, putting Baldwin's guard aside, and catching him with terrific force on the left ogle. The visitation was awful; Baldwin was hit off his legs in the most finished style. Nothing could exceed the consternation of Bob's friends. "He is licked," was the cry; and the White-headed one, on getting to his second's knee, seemed anxious to ascertain whether his eye was yet in its proper position, and if possible to stop the swelling, which was rapidly advancing. During these rounds Bob had not made a single return, and Jem was as gay as one of his uncle Belcher's larks.

4.—Neale now urged Bob to go in, as he evidently saw that he had no chance at out-fighting. "Yes," said Bob, but he kept still à la distance, when Jem again burst upon him, and delivered right and left with great force, while Bob was getting away, and trying to stop. Jem followed him up, and was well stopped in some of his straight ones, but he succeeded in planting another floorer, and away went Bob for the fourth time off his pins.

5.—On coming up it was seen that Baldwin's left eye was completely closed. Jem saw his advantage, put aside Bob's science, tipped two facers, right and left, and then catching him on the sneezer, tapped the claret in a new quarter; and in the close, Bob was down again.

6.—Bob, though dreadfully punished, came up game. Neale shouted to him to go in, and Bob replied, "he knew what he was about." A good rally followed, in which Bob went boldly to his man. Some good exchanges followed, right and left, in which Jem received a heavy blow on his left cheek, which was cut, and bled freely. He returned as good as he got, and Bob fell on his knees. ("Bob is not beat yet," said his friends; and hopes were entertained that Jem would fall off. Bob was still strong on his legs.)

7.—Jem pursued his old game, hitting left and right with great severity. Baldwin made some good returns, but in a rally which followed had the worst of it. In a close by the ropes, Jem was pushed down.

8.—Bob stopped Jem's left with neatness. Short sparring, when Jem again went in with his left, his right hand being a good deal puffed. Bob stopped him, and was rushing to hit, when Jem slipped down.

9.—Jem again went to work with energy. Bob stopped him cleverly at first, but Jem would be with him, and planted a rattler on his nose with his left, drawing more of the carmine. Bob shook it off, and went to fight, when a good rally followed, in which Bob was almost hit stupid. Again did Neale call upon him to fight. He rushed in and bored Jem to the ropes, when Jem went down to avoid harm, and Bob fell on him with his knees.

10.—Bob stopped a well-intended visitation from Jem's left, but Jem succeeded in jobbing him several times. A close at the ropes, in which each tried for the advantage. At last Jem broke away, and in a rally Bob hit him down with a random blow. Jem now showed weakness, and piped, although his spirit seemed unbroken, and Bob showed most fearful marks of punishment.

11.—Bob now thought there was a chance in his favour, and rushed at once to his man to increase his distress. Jem, however, was ready, though puffing, and met him with a couple of facers. Bob fell on his knees.

12.—Bob again made a desperate effort to increase Jem's exhaustion, but Jem broke away, hitting him with his left as he approached, in the middle of the head. Bob 335planted a slasher on Jem's mouth, but Jem countered in good style. Jem then bored him to the ropes, and both went down piping.

13.—Jem threw in a nobber. Bob nodded, and put in a good body blow. Jem returned a facer with his right. A long and desperate rally followed, in which good hits were exchanged. In the end, Bob went down. Both were much distressed, but Bob decidedly the worse.

14.—Bob came up as if determined to strain every nerve to make a turn in his favour, but it was in vain. Jem, after sparring for wind, repeatedly jobbed him right and left on the old spots, and both eyes were nearly on a par in point of darkness. Bob retreated, stopping Jem's slashing hits, but Jem never left him, and he fell heavily at the ropes.

15.—Jem pursued the jobbing system, and Bob, though he stopped some blows, received too many to be agreeable. He stood for some time almost stupefied. Jem peppered away, until he fell in a dreadful condition as to punishment. Any odds on Jem, and Bob's friends wished him to give in, begging that he would not fight a second beyond his own inclination. He would not, however, be persuaded to stop, but again got up with a resolution to do his best.

16.—Jem rushed to his man, and after a severe struggle both fell out of the ring.

17.—Bob only came up to be hit down.

18.—Jem seemed to get fresher with the consciousness of victory, and caught Bob a nasty one on the body. He then followed him up, jobbing as he went. In the close, both went down.

19.—Jem jobbed his man right and left, and he went down at the ropes.

20. and last.—Jem popped in a body blow. Bob, still disposed to make a desperate struggle, after a short rally, seized Jem by the ropes, and held him fast for a considerable time, in the exertion getting his finger in Jem's mouth. Jem at last got a little free, and then forcing Bob with his back over the upper rope, poised him equally, and delivered three finishers with astounding force in the middle of the head. Bob tumbled over, and was senseless. Jem was, of course, pronounced the conqueror, amidst the shouts of his friends. He walked with great firmness to his drag, while Bob was carried to a post-chaise, and driven off the ground to St. Albans.

Remarks.—The result of this fight excited no small surprise in the minds of many who profess to be good judges. Bob, it was said, never fought worse. He never seemed to be firm on his legs, but kept hopping back as if sparring. It was also obvious that he did not go in to his man with that determination which could alone give him a chance of victory until too late. When jobbed in the head, he kept nodding as if he considered all he was getting was nothing compared with what he was about to give; but the giving time never came, and with the exception of the blows on the cheek and mouth, and a tolerably good body blow, he never made any impression. On the other hand, Jem's blows all told with tremendous effect, and the game and resolution with which My Nevvy conducted himself throughout was highly creditable. He set out with a determination to hit out left and right at Bob's nob, and he stuck to this system till the close of the battle, winning in very gallant style. Towards the middle of the fight he certainly was distressed, and Bob did all he could to take advantage of his piping, but was himself too far gone, and Jem by keeping away gained his second wind and made all safe. Jem's right hand was a good deal puffed, and the skin was knocked off most of his knuckles, from coming in contact with Bob's masticators. In other respects he was not damaged, and in fact, when he arrived at Wildbore's, at St. Albans, he sat down to dinner with a large party, and ate as heartily as if he had been merely taking a morning walk. After dinner he paid a friendly visit to Bob, who was in bed, and completely blind. Poor Bob said he didn't know how it was; he felt he had not fought as he was wont to do, and attributed his misfortune to the severe hitting in the first three rounds, which he said completely took away his senses. The fight lasted thirty-three minutes. Jem, after offering his fallen opponent some pecuniary consolation, returned to town in a swell drag and four.

On the Thursday after the fight, Jem Burn took a benefit at the Tennis Court, at which Baldwin showed, and expressed his regret at having been beaten, more, as he said, for his friends' than his own sake, and announced his readiness to make a fresh match, to come off as soon as possible. Burn was by no means disinclined to consent to a new trial, and on the very next evening, at a meeting at Belcher's, the Castle Tavern, Holborn, articles were duly signed for a meeting on the 3rd of July. Betting was begun by "Uncle Ben" laying seven to four on "My Nevvy," and so the 336wagering went, especially at Tattersall's, where seven to four in hundreds was taken by one of the best judges of the day. The sequel proved the soundness of Mr. John Gully's opinion. Baldwin defeated our hero, after a desperate contest of eighty-five rounds, occupying ninety minutes, as may be seen in the life of Baldwin, Chapter VII. of this volume.

On the 13th of November in the same year (1827) Jem a second time met Ned Neale, but after a hard battle of forty-three rounds, occupying forty-six minutes, had again to succumb to the conquering arm of the Streatham Youth. (See Life of Neale, ante, Chapter V., p. 310.)

This was Jem's last appearance as a principal within the ropes of the P. R. As a second, a backer, and a demonstrator of the art, the Press and the sporting public never lost sight of him. His house, the "Queen's Head," Windmill Street, Haymarket, which he kept for some years, was the resort of all lovers of jolly companionship, and those who wished to keep themselves au courant to all sports of the ring.

Jem's Master of the Ceremonies at his sparring soirées was for some time the accomplished light weight Owen Swift; and many an M.P. slipped away from St. Stephen's, and many a smart guardsman from a Belgravian dinner-party, to give a look in at Jolly Jem's snuggery; an inner sanctum, communicating with the sparring-room, and set apart for "those I call gentlemen," as Jem emphatically phrased it. The inscription over the mantelpiece of this room, from the pen of "Chief Baron Nicholson," was appropriate:—

"Scorning all treacherous feud and deadly strife,
The dark stiletto and the murderous knife,
We boast a science sprung from manly pride,
Linked with true courage and to health allied—
A noble pastime, void of vain pretence—
The fine old English art of self-defence."
In vain did mere playmen, or "calico swells," attempt to gain a footing in Jem's "private room." Jem instinctively detected the pretender. "There's just as much difference in the breed of men as there is in the breed of horses," he would say. "I read that fellow in a minute; the club-room's his place."

In his later days Jem shifted his domicile to the "Rising Sun," in Air Street, Piccadilly (previously kept by Johnny Broome), where many a night burly Jem was to be found, enjoying his pipe and glass, surrounded by the few surviving members of the old school, and visited during the season by many youthful saplings of the Corinthian tree, to whom Jem 337would mirthfully and cheerily impart the adventures and sporting experiences of his earlier days.

"A merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begat occasion for his wit,
For every object that the one did catch
The other turned to a mirth-moving jest."
For several years, as Jem grew in years and in portliness, and, though not a hard drinker, fully enjoyed the good things of this life, he was subject to intermittent attacks of gout, which, towards 1862, assailed him with increasing frequency, yet failing, when they gave him even a short truce, to subdue his natural fun and frolic. It was during one of unusual severity that we looked in to inquire after Jem's health, and his pleasant daughter (Mrs. Doyle) having taken up our name, the bedridden boxer desired us to be "shown up." We expressed our sympathy, regarding at the same time with some curiosity a contrivance suspended from the curtain-rods of the four-poster in which Jem was recumbent.

"Ha! old fellow," said the merry Yorkshireman, "you're wanting to spell out the meaning of that. I'll tell you, if this blessed crab that's just now got me in toe don't give his claw an extra squeeze. If he does, why, I'll strike, and he shall tow me into port at once."

"No, Jem, it's not come to that yet."

"But it very soon must, if it don't stalk. See here," said he, pointing to a strong cord stretched from the top rail across the bed, from which another cord was suspended midway, and made fast to the handle of an old-fashioned corkscrew. "If it warn't for this tackle I'd get no sleep night nor day. Inside the bedclothes I've got a bung—good idea for a licensed victualler—into that I screws the corkscrew through the bedclothes, which I then raise tent-fashion by this hal'yard, and that I make fast down here to the bedpost. There's a wrinkle for you, Miles's Boy; but I hope you'll never want it for yourself." Poor Jem we never saw again. His arch-enemy ascended to his portly stomach, and on the morning of the 29th of May Jem slept with his forefathers.

"——Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither,
Ripeness is all." [1]