The Sun.
London, England, 1868-09-24 00:00:00

711 E PIIIZE-FIGH7 IN VIRGINIA.

Frank Blair's assertion that Democratic success
is ordained by Heaven has lately received further
illustration, and the accumulation of evidence will
soon be so considerable that few can doubt its
truth. At the recent prize-fight for the light weight
championship in Virginia, when the pugilists were
stripped and ready for business, a well-knoWn
thief shouted, " Before proceeding to business,
let us invoke the blessing of Providence by three
cheers for Seymour and Blair." Perhaps the steamer
Metamora never carried a larger gang of ruffians
than that she took on board at Baltimore on the
night of the 231 August to witness the fight ou
Travers Island. A correspondent of the Spirit
speaks thus of the men :—" Around me was a sea of
faces expressive of ferocity, ruthlessness, and tho-
rough-paced ruffianism in its most virulent and
loathsome ugliness. The steamer was deep in the
water with her heavy load of ' poor humanity.'
Among the pleasant diversions pour passer le temps
were free fights in the crowd, characterized by play-
ful attempts at gouging or nose-chewing. Men
with their hair grown white in the service of evil
stood side by side with cunning, repulsive young
faces, that appeared worthy their parent stock ;"
but severe as is his language regarding them,
their conduct quickly proved that he did not
exaggerate. Here was an episode : Joseph
Beard, jun., of Baltimore, jokingly remarked to a
friend that a job had been put up to throw him
overboard, accompanying the remark with a play-
ful slap in the face. Immediately friends and foes
were ranged in hostile attitude, pistols sprang from
pockets, knives glittered, and before any explana-
tion could be made the " ladies" cabin, selected for
the entertainment, was the scene of a fierce conflict.
The Spirit's correspondent, while moralizing on the
horrid crowd by which he was surrounded, was in-
terrupted by the pistol shots :—" Hurriedly rushing
to the cabin door, the sounds of a suppressed melee
greet me, while on looking into the small space,
overcrowded and ill-ventilated, my eyes light on a de-
moniacal scene, to which it is impossible to do justice.
Firing, biting, struggling, fighting, scratching, and
stabbing occupy the attention of the occupants of
the cabin, and a slight set-to between two young
roughs has been the prelude for as bloody a free
fight as ever disgraced the gory annals of the Sixth
Ward in New York. Among the weapons of
offence are slung-shot, knives, six-shooters, clubs,
knuckle-dusters, and other kinds of murderous-
looking weapons, the use of which is un-
' known to your peaceable correspondent. Mingling
with the imprecations and infuriated yells of the
combatants are shrieks of terror from poor, pale-
! faced women, whose faces and voices tell their tale
of degradation—alas too plainly. The gloom of
, the dingy little cabin is dispelled for a moment or
two by the frequent flashing of the firearms." The

Baltimore Commercial, whose reporter was also pre-

sent, says that this fight was stopped by James
Colbert and Barney Aaron, of New York, and Jas.
llenrietta, of Baltimore, who sprang in with cocked
revolvers in hand, and emphatically declared that
they would shoot the first man who moved. Instantly
the firing and cutting ceased, when it was found
" that Patrick Mullen, residing at Canton, and
known as the captain of the Fountain

Wreckers,' hid been shot in the back, the
`bullet glancing upwards and lodging in the