If Julia May Gifford were as good an actress as her husband. Lanky Bob “ is a fighter, ami ir Fits was not almost as bad an actor as his wife an actress, “A Fight for Love, at the Dowling last night might have been worth seeing. Hut Bob was a hud wtor, his wife was worse, and the play itself was alxnrt the ViMtyesl loose jointed conglomeration of hackneyed stage talk and situations tliai was ever unloaded upon a suffering public. Bur-r-r, but it was bad. In the words of a school boy. just studying grammar, the play as It progressed was bad, badder and still baddcr But then the small audience present did not attend expecting to see a high-class production; they went to see t».e grand old man of the prize ring, the fighter of 365 battles, and tie loser of only two. Hob did some de\er bag punching, and that terrible left jolt of his made the crowd blilvcf, when they thought what would happen »o them should FUz plant his bunch oT fives on their jaw. The boxing bout between him and his sparring partner, was like all such stage bouts, very, very tame. There was not a hard I. low struck and the thing was a veritable farce from the point of view of men who have seen scraps, but It was Interesting to the others, and the many women present.Mike Golden, the hero of 36.” day in the year, and the loser of much hotair, in regard to his fighting ability, did not go on with PH*, as was scheduled. It is whispered around town today that Bob's manager gave him $10 to stay away. If Golden’s friends startod that story, they had b«**r hange their brand of dope or soon they will see pink elephants wall ing on the ceiling.