41 to 44.—Brassey was evidently gaining ground, and in the latter round Langan severely injured his right leg in falling against a stake, which made him lame for the remainder of the fight.
45.—Nothing material in this round, except one dishonourable knave deliberately cutting the rope of the inner ring, and had it not been for the praiseworthy activity of little Billy Critchley in splicing the same, would doubtless have finished the mill with a wrangle.
46 to 51.—Brassey’s friends were in transports. Victory was now booked as certain, and the rowdy upon Brassey could find no takers.
52.—Langan rallied, and up to the 56th round may be said at intervals to have turned the tide in his own favour; nay, even bets were loudly proclaimed, but little tin was sported.
57.—Brassey was evidently at sea, and the Langanites bawled most lustily. Compliment for compliment, each party alternately cheering on their man until Brassey fell.
58 to 62.—Both men fought well and to win. Brassey’s lower lip had received some stingers from his opponent in the way of cutting and carving, while Langan’s phisog was quite the reverse of what Lavater would term “the exquisite,” strongly reminding us of Kenney Meadows’s “Gallery” portrait of the “Man wot won the fight.”
63.—To all appearances it was now extremely doubtful which would be the victor. Hit for hit—right and left—give and take—advance and retreat, until both heroes fell over the ropes and out of the ring.
64.—Brassey came up and lost no time in drawing the claret from Langan’s right peeper, but slipped down from exertion.
65.—Langan’s mug was awful, his left ogle nearly closed, and he looked more languid than in any round previously; this and the 66th round told against him.
67.—One effort more; Brassey missed his left, Langan grasped him, and with a vigorous strength which we at this time thought he did not possess, threw him heavily.