Round 1.—Brown, when divested of his outer garments, looked extremely well, not to say gigantic, weighing, at the least estimate, fifteen stone. A smile of confidence embellished his mug, and he seemed to say to himself, “I shall lick this Sampson like fun.” Phil was equally slap-up in condition—in truth, we never saw him to more advantage in any of his previous encounters; he weighed nearly thirteen stone. His countenance indicated composure, calculation, and perfect preparation for the job he had undertaken. On setting-to, Brown did not appear exactly “at home;” he put up his arms more like a pupil who had been taught the rudiments of the art of self-defence than as a pugilist acting from his own suggestions. He scarcely seemed to know whether he should commence offensive operations or wait for his active adversary to make the onset. The science displayed by Sampson was judicious, correct, and decisive; he crept in, as it were, to measure his distance, and having ascertained he was right, he let fly with both hands. The mug of Brown felt them; when Sampson, in the style of Curtis, stepped backwards, by which means Brown, in returning, did not reach his opponent. (“Well done, Sampson!”) The Birmingham blade again tried on the manœuvre with increased effect, and planted a heavy blow just under the temple of Brown. The latter now attempted to fight first, but his movements were slow, and his right hand did little more than touch the side of Sampson’s nob. Some sharp exchanges occurred, but the hitting of the “big one” was round, while Sampson planted his straight facers with electrifying effect, and had the best of the rally. Brown, by his superior strength, bored his adversary to the ropes, where he held Sampson, and endeavoured to fib him with his right hand but not à la Randall. The “big one” kept pegging at Phil everywhere until he was down. (Great disapprobation, and loud cries of “Foul,” “Fair,” &c.) It was the general opinion that a foul blow had been given by the hero of Bridgnorth, but perhaps not intentionally; therefore the umpires did not notice the transaction. (“First blood!” said Curtis; “that’s an event worth summut to me.”)
2.—The skill of Sampson again was the admiration of the ring. He, as in the previous round, coolly measured his distance so correctly as to plant two facers, and stepped back out of trouble. Sampson repeated the offence without delay by another left-hander on the mug of the “big one,” when the latter returned a blow on the side of Phil’s head. Sampson kept a good look-out; when, at length, he saw an opening, he planted a precious teaser on the left peeper of Brown, which not only damaged it, but placed it on the winking system. (“Go in,” cried the friends of Brown; “don’t stand out to be punished.”) The Bridgnorth hero rushed to a close, laid hold of Phil at the ropes, and would have made mincemeat of him if Sampson had not got down cleverly.
3.—Of no importance. Sparring for a short period, when Brown endeavoured to plant a right-handed hit on the upper works of Sampson, but Phil got away from mischief, and Brown, with the force of the blow, fell on his knees. The “big one” jumped up, ready to renew the contest; Sampson was also on the alert to hit; but Spring, considering the round at an end, drew Brown back, who immediately seated himself on the knee of his second.
4.—Phil took the lead, like a master of the art; his left hand told twice successively on the mug of his adversary, and he retreated from mischief. Sampson put in a tremendous blow with his right on the left cheek of Brown, the claret following profusely. (“He’s winning it nicely,” said the Brums.) The hero of Bridgnorth, rather wild at such unexpected rough treatment, went to work desperately; but Sampson kept milling on the retreat—jobbing Brown, as he followed, with both his hands, until the “big one” closed, got the fall, and dropped on Sampson.
5.—The nob of Brown was considerably damaged; he was also piping. The “big one” made a good stop, but Sampson, undismayed, went to work, and had the best of a short rally. Phil, with a sneer of derision and ill-nature, observed, “You Champion of England!” then, planting a heavy blow on Brown’s left eye, exclaimed, “There’s a small taste for your Championship!” The hero of Bridgnorth, irritated at the taunts, went in to do mischief, but Sampson met his rush with two heavy blows in the front of his head, which floored the soi-disant Champion. (The applause was deafening. “Sampson for ever!” “Sampson for choice!” “He can’t fight at all!” “Send him back to Bridgnorth!”)
6.—Sampson, quick as lightning, went to work, and Brown fought with him; but the former took the lead and had the best of it. Brown, in his anxiety to punish his opponent, stumbled, and his head went against a stake.
7.—The weight of the “big one,” enabled him to drive Sampson against the ropes. The situation was rather dangerous. Brown held him as if he had been screwed in a vice, and kept milling his ribs with his right hand. (The row was immense—applause by the friends of the “big one,” and the Sampsonites hissing and hooting beyond description.) Phil shifted his arm, and changed his position, but still it was most distressing. (“Don’t hang the man, Brown!”) The struggle was terrible on both sides. Phil at length got down, Holt sticking to him closely, and giving him advice how to get out of the clutches of his powerful adversary.
8.—Sampson came to the scratch much better than could be expected after the severe hugging at the ropes in the last round. Phil put in two facers, but received in return a heavy blow on the side of his head. Brown closed, but, failing in a cross-buttock, he dragged Sampson off his legs and fell by the side of him.
9.—The left ogle of Brown was almost in darkness, and one of his listeners and his nasal organ much swelled and out of shape. Sampson, on the sharp look-out, planted another facer with his left. Brown bored in, and caught Phil at the ropes; here the latter not only got out of danger well, but faced his opponent suddenly, and sent in a couple of blows as he went down. (“Well done, Sampson; you are sure to win.”)
10.—Short. Brown was again met in his rush in the middle of his nob; he nevertheless bored in and got Sampson down.