67.—Exchange of blows. A pause. Langan on the totter, but he planted two slight hits on the Champion’s face. Spring followed him up, and gave Langan two blows, one in the body and one in the head, which dropped the hero of the black fogle.
68.—The bravery of Langan was equal to anything ever witnessed in the prize ring. The hands of Spring were in such a swollen state that he could scarcely close them, and most of his blows appeared to be open-handed. Langan was hit down. (“Take him away!” “Do you hear what they say, Jack?” said Belcher. “Yes,” replied Langan: “I will not be taken away; I can win it yet.”)
69.—In struggling for the throw, Langan’s head fell against the rails. Both down.
70.—Langan again napped on the nobbing system, and was sent down. One hour and forty-two minutes had elapsed. (Loud cries of “Take him away!”)
71.—The backers of Spring were anxious to have it over; and the spectators in general cried out, on the score of humanity, that Langan ought not to be suffered to fight any more. Colonel O’Neil, the friend and backer of the Irish Champion, assured the umpire that he did not want for humanity; and he was well satisfied in his own mind that, from the tumefied state of Spring’s hands, no danger could arise. Langan was fighting for £200 of his own money, therefore he had no right to interfere; he had, previous to the fight, left it in the hands of his skilful second, Belcher, who, he was certain, would not suffer the fight to last longer than was safe to all parties. Langan, after a short round, was sent down.
72.—Langan was brought to the scratch by Belcher, who said, “Fight, my dear boy; Spring can’t hurt you.” Langan, with undaunted resolution, plunged in to hit his opponent; but, after receiving more punishment, was sent down. (Repeated cries of “Take him away!”)
73.—It was now evident to all persons that Langan, while he retained the slightest knowledge of what he was about, would not give in. Spring fibbed Langan as severely as he was able, to put an end to the fight, till he went down. (Here Jack Randall came close to the stage, and said, “Tom Belcher, take him away; he cannot win it now.” “He says he will not, Jack, and that he can fight longer,” replied Tom Belcher.)
74.—This round was a fine picture of resolution under the most distressing circumstances. Langan, without the slightest shadow of a chance, seemed angry that his limbs would not do their duty; he came again to the scratch, and, with true courage, fought till he was sent down. While sitting on the knee of his second, Cribb thus addressed him: “You are a brave man, Langan!” “A better was never seen in the prize ring,” rejoined Painter; “but you can’t win, Langan; it is no use for you to fight, and it may prove dangerous.” “I will fight,” said Langan; “no one shall take me away.”
75.—When time was called, Langan was brought to the scratch, and placed himself in attitude. He attempted to hit, when Spring caught hold of him and again fibbed him. (“Give no chance away now,” said Cribb; “you must finish the battle.”) Langan went down quite stupid. (“Take him away!” from all parts of the ring.)
76 and last.—Strange to relate, Langan again showed at the scratch; it might be asserted that he fought from instinct. It did not require much punishment, at this period, to send the brave Langan off his legs; and, to the credit of Spring be it recorded, he did his duty towards his backers as a fighting man, and acted so humanely towards an opponent, that, to the end of life, Langan had the highest respect for him as a man. Langan put up his arms in attitude, but they were soon rendered useless, Spring driving him down without giving punishment. When time was called, Langan was insensible to the call, and thus, after a contest of one hour and forty-nine minutes, the hat was thrown up, and Spring was declared the conqueror, amidst the loudest shouts of approbation. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sant immediately ascended the stage. Mr. Sant congratulated Spring on his victory, but concluded, “If you ever fight again, I will never speak to you any more, Tom; I never saw such bad hands in any battle.” Spring replied, “Sir, I never will.” He then left the knee of his second, and went up to Langan, and laid hold of his hand. The Irish Champion had not yet recovered, but on opening his eyes, he asked in a faint tone, “Is the battle over?” “Yes,” replied Belcher. “Oh dear!” articulated Langan. Spring immediately shook his hand again, and said, “Jack, you and I must be friends to the end of our lives; and anything that is within my power, I will do to serve you. When I see you in town I will give you £10.”