The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1915-04-17
E 5l7W77R.1T'TEN FOR TaE HARM GE.Es)



 long friend and companion of boxers.
 In the course of years Borrow acl1iev- ted the title of 7ts King of the Vaga- bonds. He wandered gypsy-wise. over f England, Spain and Portugal, often living with the gipsies, and never miss , ing a chance to see a prize fight. Bor- l row died in 1881, leaving behind as a heritage sPme of the greatest books dealing with travel, romance and ad- venture ever written. ssIsavengro, . I .sgE1l e Ronnanyf Rye and ssThe Zinc ] ali now rank as classics. and Borrow l is classed with Cervantes, Defoe and IseSage.
 Although he witnessed many battles of the prize ring, BorroH never forgot 1 that contest between Painter and OIL yer, and his description. f that battle in 'Iavengro''s is the classic of the prize ring. In his latter vars the King of vagabonds's 1aTnented the passing of the old heroes Of pugilisrn and the looming of the coTnrnerciaI era of the ring in language that deserves to be repeated
 1T have kn own th tine, wrote this tstaunch defender of British bruisers, l when a pugilistic encounter between two noted champions was almost con- sIdered in the light of a national af- 1 fair. when tens of thousands of indf- lviduals, high and. low, meditated and brooded 1llrbn it, the first thing in the
 morning and the last thing at night, until the great event was decided
 Pugilisns was then at it's height, and consequently near it's decline for corruption had ecfeptf into the ring. 1 And how many things, states, seets among the rest zoyv e heir decline to this cause But what a bold and wig orous aspect naIgilfsras wore at that timei And the great battle was just then coming off A day had been de- cided upon, and the post, a convenient distance from the old town of Norwich. and to the old town were now flock ing the brufsers of England-what were the gladiators of Rome, or the lbun-fighters of Spain in it's palmiest days compared to EngIandss bruisers? !? l Pity that corruption should have crept in among them-buts of that wish not I to talk; let us still hope that a spark of the religion, of which they were the priests, still fingers in the breasts of Fr lishnen.
 from London, or from wherever else they might chance to be at the time to- the great rendezvous in the old cf- ty; some come one way, some another; some with tip-top reputation come with peers in their chariots, for glory even peers are proud to have those invested herewith by their sides; others come in their own gigs, driv- ing their own bits of blood, and Heafda one say, Il nave dr1Ven through at a heat, the whole one rundred and eleven miles, and only stopped to bait twice. Ohl the blood horses of Old England. but they too,s have had their day. for everything beneath the sun there is a season and a time. But the greater number come just as they can icontrive-on the tops of coaches, for example and amongst these are fe1- lows with dark, sal1ow faces and sharp, shining eyes, and it is these that have planted rottenness in the core of pugi- lisnn, for they have only filthy lucre l in view
 "So the bruisers of England arc come to be present at the great fight speedily coming off think I see them now upon the bowling green the men of renown amidst hundreds of people of no renown at all, who gaze upon them with ttmfd wonder. Fame, after all. is a glorious thing, although it lasts for only a. day.