tage for the display
of his inimitably fine science," says the writer of the account in the
_Cambridge Chronicle_ for 1827. "On taking the champion's belt many
sprung up in bravado, but none in arms sufficiently hardy to dispute
his well-earned honours. At length, Peter Crawley got backed against
him. Crawley was a giant and stood 6 feet, 2 inches, while Ward was 5
feet, 9 inches, and stout and active."

I am not going to describe the scene further, beyond the remark that
the fighting was a furious and tremendous onslaught upon each other, so
that in the space of twenty-six minutes, and after eleven rounds, both
men were perfectly exhausted, and in a wretched plight. Crawley had
his cheek laid open and both eyes nearly closed, and Ward could not
stand.

In this short space the two pugilists had reduced themselves to the
pitiable condition of simply mauling each other, hugging each other,
and because Crawley just managed to _push_ Ward down and he could not
rally in time, the champion lost his belt!

The scene as described by eye witnesses, of whom there are very few
living, as well as from the facts on record from which I have quoted,
must have been a brutal one as we now look upon such things, though it
was considered a grand and memorable spectacle to thousands of those
assembled on our fine old Heath!

Jem Ward, who was generally looked upon as a little above the ordinary
run of pugilists in intelligence and education, lived to an old age,
and died only a few years ago.

The frequency of these pugilistic encounters naturally had some effect
upon, and was reflected in the local life of the period, and the amount
of fighting at fairs and village feasts was in striking contrast with
the rarity of such exhibitions now-a-days. The undergraduates from
Cambridge gloried in being mixed up with, and promoting such scenes of
disorder, and it is well-known that in the "Town and Gown rows" at
Cambridge, they sometimes engaged some well-known champion--such as
Peter Crawley, who defeated Jem Ward, on Royston Heath--to do the
"slogging." They would attend village feasts in such company, and when
their riotous conduct had provoked the young men of the village to a
general row, these professionals set-to and often made short work of
the fray. It was in one such exhibition at the Melbourn feast in the
early years of the century that J. King earned the title of the Royston
champion, and, for a time, gained more than a loc