Notwithstanding this denial, it is certain that a well-intentioned Quaker lady did act as above described, for which, viewing the peculiar tenets of her sect, we must rather applaud than ridicule her.

In disposition, Bill Neat was not only generous and cheerful, but might be termed a “high fellow,” and always ready to serve a friend. He was fond of a “bit of life,” threw off a good chant, and was the President of the Daffy Club, held at Sam Porch’s, Guildhall Tavern, Broad Street, Bristol. It was said of him that, “If he is not a good fighter, Neat is a good fellow.”

From this period Neat, the small bone of whose arm was really fractured, retired from the fistic arena. He became subsequently a butcher in Bristol, where he resided until his death, which took place on the 23rd of March, 1858, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. Neat was respected for many social qualities, and his genuine kind-heartedness, under a rough exterior, gained the friendship of many. His prowess in levelling the small Welsh cattle by a blow with a gauntlet glove between the eyes has been narrated to us by eye-witnesses of this Milonian feat. Bill Neat adds another to the many instances, which this history has presented, of the esteem and good opinion which the best men of the ring have earned from all classes of society.

CHAPTER VI.
THOMAS HICKMAN (“THE GAS MAN”).

A second Hotspur, had the sword been his weapon—fiery, hardy, daring, impetuous, laughing to scorn all fear, and refusing to calculate odds in weight, length, or strength, “the Gas Man,” for a brief period, shone rather as a dazzling comet than a fixed star or planet in the pugilistic sphere. Impetuous in the assault almost to ferocity, though not destitute of skill, Hickman, like Hooper in his earlier day, prided himself that his irresistible charge must confound, dismay, and paralyze the defence of his opponent. There was certainly something terrific in his attack, for in his earlier battles his head and body seemed insensible to blows, at least they failed to drive him from his purpose or to sensibly affect his strength, cheerfulness, or vigour. At one period it was thought by his over-sanguine admirers that no skill could repel his clever “draw” and his rushing onslaught. Retreat, when once in for a rally, was with him a thing not to be thought of, and he carried all before him. Success is the test and only criterion of the many, and Hickman, despite experience, was over-rated. Out of the ring, Hickman was fond of fun, vivacious, warm-hearted, and friendly; but, as may be supposed, headstrong, violent, and repentant where wrong. Pugilists, more liable to insults than most men, should always control their tempers. It is necessary in the fight, and equally valuable in private life. Our most eminent boxers (see lives of Johnson, Cribb, Spring, etc., for corroboration) have been kind, forbearing, and of equable temper. As a runner, Hickman was known before his ring début, and won several prizes at this and jumping. The early career of Hickman we take upon the credit of “Boxiana,” “the historian” being his contemporary.

THOMAS HICKMAN (“The Gas Man”).

Thomas Hickman was born in Ken Lane, Dudley, Worcestershire, on the 28th of January, 1785. His nurse thought that he showed something like “fight,” even in his cradle; but when Tommy felt the use of his pins, and could toddle out among his play-fellows, he was considered as the most handy little kid amongst them. His skirmishes, when a boy, are too numerous for recital; but it will suffice to state that, in the circle in which he moved, when any of them were in danger of being beaten, it was a common observation amongst them, to intimidate the refractory, that they would fetch “Tom Hickman to lick him!”

Hickman was apprenticed to a steam-engine boiler maker. His first regular combat was with one Sedgeley, in a place called Wednesbury Field.[[19]] Sedgeley was disposed of with ease and quickness by young Tom.