The Sun. — 1868-09-24 (London, England)

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 thorough-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 playful 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 playful slap in the face. Immediately friends and foes were ranged in hostile attitude, pistols sprang from pockets, knives glittered, and before any explanation 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 interrupted 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 demoniacal 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 murderouslooking 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