On 28th July 1783 was held the annual fair at Menheniot, and for
miles round the country folk flocked into the little Cornish village
to join in the festivities. Among the throng was a strong contingent
of young men from Liskeard, a town three miles distant, between whom
and the youth of Menheniot an ancient feud existed. In days when the
bruisers of England were national heroes, and a fight was a fitting
incident of a day's revelry, the very presence of their rivals was a
sufficient challenge to the chivalry of Menheniot, and a contest
became inevitable. Some unrecorded incident was accepted by both
parties as a sufficient cause for battle, and the two factions were
soon fighting furiously midst collapsing stalls and tumbled
merchandise. Women shrieked and fainted, men shouted and struck out
grimly, whilst the stall-holders, in a frenzy of grief and despair,
wrung their hands helplessly as they saw their goods being trampled
to ruin beneath the feet of the contestants.

Slowly the men of Liskeard were borne back by their more numerous
opponents. They wavered, and just as defeat seemed inevitable, there
arrived upon the scene a young man who, on seeing his townsmen in
danger of being beaten, placed himself at their head and charged down
upon the enemy, forcing them back by the impetuosity of his attack.

The new arrival was a man of fine physique, above the medium height
and a magnificent fighter, who, later in life, was to achieve
something of which a Mendoza or a Belcher might have been proud. He
fought strongly and silently, inspiring his fellow townsmen by his
example. The new leader had entirely turned the tide of battle, but