Fame, after all, is a glorious thing, though it lasts only for a day.

There's Cribb, the champion of England, and perhaps the best man in England; there he is, with his huge massive figure, and face wonderfully like that of a lion.

There is Belcher, the younger, not the mighty one, who is gone to his place, but the Teucer Belcher, the most scientific pugilist that ever entered a ring, only wanting strength to be, I won't say what.

He appears to walk before me now, as he did that evening, with his white hat, white great coat, thin genteel figure, springy step, and keen, determined eye.

Crosses him, what a contrast! grim, savage Shelton, who has a civil word for nobody, and a hard blow for anybody--hard! one blow, given with the proper play of his athletic arm, will unsense a giant.